GateWar
by Chris7221
Summary: Ten years ago a devastating attack led to the disclosure of the Stargate Program. Now enemies old and new threaten to bring Earth and by extension the galaxy to their knees. AU continuation of Stargate, splitting off at EATG. ABANDONED
1. Prologue 1

Title: GateWar (may change in the future)  
Author: XCVG/Chris7221 (I have a few other aliases)  
Description: Ten years ago, a devastating attack led to the disclosure of the Stargate program. Now, enemies old and new threaten to destroy the very foundation of our world.

There's a bit of a story to this story, actually. It was actually developed alongside SGD- which is why it may seem so similar. It was an idea for a game or mod, but of course that is never going to happen. But the story seemed good enough (to me at least) to make a decent fanfic. I actually debated writing it in second-person perspective, script format, and something so awful I'd rather not go into it before just writing it normally.

Enjoy.

* * *

Prologue - Invasion

_January 9, 2009_  
_Tel Aviv, Israel_  
_10 years ago_

It was sudden and without warning. Rav Samal (the equivalent of First Sergeant) David Gabai and his fellow servicemen were in the middle of a routine training exercise when they had suddenly been recalled and told to prepare for an invasion. Very little explanation was given, because his superiors didn't know much either. Various theories were thrown around, including Palestinian militants, Syrians, and even an attack from the sea.

They were all completely wrong. David hadn't even loaded his MTAR-21 Tavor rifle when they started dropping from the sky. The small, dart-like craft defied description. There was something otherworldly and organic about them. A high-pitched whine emitted from the thousands of craft filling the air. Missiles streaked from Israeli fighters and ground-based defences. They simply did not have enough missiles to take down even a fraction of the craft.

"Get down!" His commanding officer, Segen (First Lieutenant) Zarah Sharett pushed him down behind a car. Blue-coloured bolts of energy erupted from the alien craft, peppering the city. One of them was headed straight toward their squad. The energy bolts slammed into the car, boiling away metal and tearing the car to pieces. A Stinger missile streaked from a shoulder launcher and slammed into the craft, tearing it almost in half and sending it careening out of control into their M113 APC. They were both reduced a burning wreck of twisted metal and... whatever the aliens used.

"Everyone inside that building! Take cover, go!" Zarah yelled. "They've landed troops somehow."

The troops she referred to were large, muscular and appeared mostly human. They wore bone masks concealing their faces and carried a staff-like weapon. No doubt they were being landed all around the city- maybe all over the world.

Turai (Private) Rosenburg was the newest member of their platoon, and also furthest away from the building Sharett had indicated. Halfway across the street he was hit by an energy blast from one of the alien soldiers. He collapsed.

"Don't get hit, our armour is useless. Open fire!" On her order, the 24-strong remainder of a platoon opened fire on the half dozen aliens. They were tougher than expected. David emptied his entire magazine- thirty rounds of 5.56 NATO ammunition- into one before it collapsed.

All around them, the city erupted into chaos. There was nowhere to run and few places to hide. Civilians and military alike took up arms against the invaders. They had no warning and no idea who it was. The alien theory was gaining ground as reports came in. It was happening all over the world.

"Mazar!" Sharett yelled. Rav turai (Corporal) Mazar was their communications officer. "See if you can get contact with command."

A group of the alien soldiers passed in from of the building. The examined the dead bodies and continued on, oblivious to the presence of the IDF soldiers.

"We are to move out to city hall- they are forming a defensive position there," Mazar reported. "The invaders are extraterrestrial, but that is all we know at this time."

So they were not alone in the universe. David was not an overly religious man, but he knew people that were. He didn't have much time to consider the ramifications of the matter.

"We are headed for the city hall-" One of the alien craft buzzed overhead, and Sharett paused. "Stay low and stay ready. We have no idea of the capabilities of those things. Move out."

"Independence day," someone muttered.

"I don't see what _Yom Ha'atzmaut_ has to do with it." Israel's independence was celebrated annually on a date which falls between April 15 and May 15.

"Not our independence, the American movie. It's about-"

Zarah held up her fist and they all stopped. One of the alien craft was headed straight toward them. "Take cover, move!" She got down behind a concrete planter beside David. The craft did not fire at them, but they fired at it. It flew right over them and projected some kind of beam, them pulled up and away again. Before it came, they were 24 of them. When it left, four were gone.

"Oh my-"

"Sucked them up. We have to be careful of that." Being shocked was a luxury they couldn't afford. "Move out."

It was agonizingly slow progress. The city hall was only ten blocks away. Six times they had hid in buildings to avoid the alien craft, and they had lost two more of their own, including Mazar. Their goal was finally in sight. The building was clearly under siege, with occasional gunfire coming from inside and the aliens taking position in front, firing at it. Sharett's group was only a hundred meters away, but there was a huge mass of alien forces blocking their path.

She heard movement behind them and signalled her group to get ready. David disengaged the safety on his weapon. He crouched behind what was once a makeshift barricade as a figure rounded the corner.

They were human. Five of them, all Arab, two wearing turbans and each carrying an AKM rifle. Under most circumstances, Rasal Gabai would have considered them terrorists and shot them on sight. One of them aimed toward them and opened fire. He was a split second away from pulling the trigger when a blue energy bolt flew toward the Arabs, narrowly missing the shooter.

He wheeled around, weapon in hand. It was knocked away and before he could scream one of the aliens was on top of him. He kicked at the creature, but it was very strong and clamped down on his throat with one hand. The other slammed into the hard ceramic plates protecting his chest. The alien was momentarily surprised and loosened its grip.

It was a fatal mistake. David pulled his combat knife from its sheath and drove it into the alien's hand. The alien grabbed at the stabbed hand and David rolled away toward his rifle. Before he could fire it or even pick it up, there was a stream of gunfire and the alien fell to the ground. Zarah was standing beside him. She reloaded her gun, then extended a gloved hand to help him up.

"Thank you," he said, taking the offered hand. But it was far from over. The aliens had heard the gunshots. If there was any chance they could have made it to the besieged hall before, it was gone now. The aliens were firmly between them and the city hall, and a dozen of them were headed toward the IDF group.

"Defensive positions," Sharett ordered. "They are coming."

There was plenty of cover- broken barricades, wrecked cars, what had once been shops. The Arabs weren't soldiers, but they were armed and human. David found himself behind a wrecked car, beside one of the Arabs.

"Why did you not just shoot me?" the Arab asked in passable Hebrew. "It looked like I was shoot at you. You had perfect shot."

"I was about to. Then I realized you were shooting at the alien behind me."

They had no more time to chat. Thankfully there were few of the dart-like craft in the area. They had been shot down, gone elsewhere, or were battling it out in the skies against Israeli fighters. Two of the aliens stopped and fell, killed instantly by sniper shots to the head. Well within range of their assault rifles, the humans opened fire.

David aimed for the chest, but allowed the recoil of his weapon to bring the stream of bullets into the alien's head. Headshots seemed to work. The alien fell in a pool of what was probably their equivalent of blood. Beside him, the Arab fired in the general direction of the group of aliens, which was now dispersing, the members trying to find cover. He was obviously not a good shot, and the heavy recoil of the AKM didn't help either.

The aliens rapidly overwhelmed them. For every one they took down, it seemed that two took its place. It barely registered to David that the Shalon Meir Tower was collapsing in the distance as he frantically loaded the last magazine into his rifle. He couldn't afford to waste ammo, but paradoxically he didn't have time to aim.

"Hold the line!" Segen Sharett yelled, valiantly firing her pistol at the alien invaders. An energy bolt his the Arab man beside Gabai, knocking him to the ground. David emptied the last of his magazine, drawing a line of fire across the rapidly advancing enemy. He tossed aside the empty rifle and picked up his companion's AKM. Most of them had been hit. Only nine of them were still fit to fight, and the aliens were practically on top of them.

"We have to pull back!" he yelled, firing the AKM into their attackers.

"There's nowhere to pull back to!" she yelled back, but saw the logic in it. "Let's go! Move it! Into the white building. Go, I'll cover you." It was clear what she meant. Zarah would fight to the very last. She picked up one of the Arabs' AKM rifles.

Gabai ran as fast as he could toward the white building, followed by five of the IDF soldiers and the only Arab left. One of the soldiers was hit and collapsed halfway, left in the dirt of the street. Zarah ran out of ammo. She gritted her teeth and smashed one of the aliens in the head with the rifle, killing him. Three more jumped on top of her and she disappeared from view.

The white building appeared to be a grocery store, but at least it didn't have too many windows. As a Rav Samal and Sharett's second-in-command, David Gabai was now in charge. "Barricade the door and windows- use anything you can find! You, Arab-" it was no time to be polite- "see if they're any guns in here. Move it!"

There was a deafening crash as David and one of the others pushed a vending machine up against the front door. Display cases, cabinets, whatever they could find and get in position quickly was pushed against the front of the store. Blue energy bolts narrowly missed them, and the enemy was mere meters away. The door was blocked and the windows were more defensible now, but it had cost them time.

The Arab returned with three pistols, a shotgun and several boxes of ammo. Gabai took the shotgun and box of shells. It was better than nothing. He quickly loaded the weapon, pumped it and fired. They were close enough for it to be effective. The alien grasped as his chest and David fired again, obliterating it. He fired all six shells in under thirty seconds. Surprisingly, the aliens began to retreat. Relieved a bit and convinced they were safe for the moment, he fired twice at the retreating masses and reloaded the gun.

Their relief was short lived. Three of the alien craft were headed right toward them, firing their front-mounted energy weapon.

"Back room, go!" he yelled as the first bolts slammed into the front of the building. Their makeshift fortifications were blasted to pieces, filling the room with dust. Something fell and pinned his legs. He watched helplessly as the craft advanced towards him. No doubt they would suck him up, or maybe the energy bolts would kill him first.

Suddenly, three missiles streaked out of the sky and the alien craft exploded in midair. Two MiG-29 aircraft bearing Syrian insignia buzzed past, then circled around and peppered the alien positions with bombs. The return fire from their energy weapons failed to hit the aircraft.

"Were those-"

"Yes, they were Syrian," David replied, but didn't pause to reflect on it. "Get this damn thing off of me."

Two of the men lifted a piece of rubble off his legs. His legs were sore but seemed to be okay. David got up and brushed himself off. "We have a clear path to city hall now. We should go while we have the chance."

"Perhaps we should get some food while we're here?" one of his men suggested. "It is a grocery store, and we have no idea what the state of supplies is in there."

"All right, but we move out in two minutes. Grab what you can."

The stuffed bottled water, canned and packaged food into their backpacks and shopping bags. Exactly one minute fifty-seven seconds later, they left the building and headed to city hall. There were a lot of bodies and bomb craters, but not a single alien left alive. David saw a severed hand still wriggling and kicked it aside.

He noticed the body of a woman in an IDF uniform amidst the rubble. Zarah! She'd given her life to give them a chance. David was about to look away when he noticed her move. He immediately rushed to her side.

She was in bad shape. Her once-perfect uniform was ripped and bloody. There was a deep gash across her arm and there were five punctures in her chest. Her plate carrier and helmet were gone and her hair was matted with blood. She shifted slightly and opened her eyes.

"Zarah, it's me. How bad is it?" He had a first aid kit, but there wasn't much he could do. In addition to the arm and chest wounds, she had several broken ribs and a fractured collarbone. Most of the broken bones were from the bombing, not the alien attack.

"Bad," she said weakly.

"Can you make it to the building?" David asked. Hopefully there would be help in there. He didn't want to lose her. If she could hold on a little longer...

She nodded, and regretted it. "I think so."

"On three. One, two, three!" David grabbed her and pulled her up. She grimaced and moaned in pain, but didn't fall.

"Slow and easy," he said. Zarah grimaced and leaned heavily on him. Considering her injuries, she was surprisingly strong. David wouldn't learn the reason why until nearly a month later. It was slow and painful, but they made it to the building.

Two soldiers carrying Galil rifles guarded the door. They took one look at the badly injured woman and immediately called for a doctor. David helped her onto a makeshift stretcher, then was told to head to the second floor.

Upstairs, he was handed a Galil rifle and two extra magazines. It was relatively calm for the moment, but the sky was still full of the alien craft and there were still troops on the ground.

"It's only a matter of time," the Samal (Sergeant) told him, "until they come back."

David took position up against the smashed windows, using a knocked-over table as cover. He thought of Zarah, of his family, of Yahweh. But mostly, the image of the Syrian MiGs shooting down the alien craft played itself over and over in his mind. Since when was Syria their ally? He thought of the Arabs, too. If they could work together-

Bright flashes lit up the sky, interrupting his thoughts. They were frequent, occurring several times a second. Some were brighter than others. Almost on cue, all the remaining alien spacecraft flew up and away, disappearing from sight. Ignoring the dangers of doing so, many stood up and approached the windows to get a better view.

It went on for several minutes until the sky exploded in blindingly bright light. David turned away and shielded his eyes. Moments later, there was a colossal boom and the shockwave knocked him on his feet, in addition to smashing every window that wasn't already destroyed.

"Is it over?" someone asked.

"No, I don't think so," David replied. "This is only the beginning."

* * *

That was actually quite difficult to write, considering I know next to nothing about Israel, the IDF, or Tel Aviv. In retrospect, it would have been much easier to set it in Canada, the US or even Britain. If you didn't get it, this is an alternate version of Enemy at the Gate. The Wraith decide to cull Earth before the superhive is destroyed. This chapter is very focused, but the next will explain things in broader terms. As always, please leave some feedback, even if it is overwhelmingly negative.


	2. Prologue 2

Prologue – The more things change...

* * *

Within days everyone knew the truth. Not every detail, but the basic idea was there. A race of aliens known as the Wraith had attacked Earth. Using some kind of captured alien technology, a top-secret human organization had destroyed their mothership.

The attack was devastating. Tel Aviv lay in ruins, but it was not the only city. Kyoto, St. Petersburg, Johannesburg, Paris, and many others had been hit badly. There were thousands of the alien craft- colloquially known as "darts". The targeting of cities had been largely random, but the Wraith had left a wake of destruction. It was estimated that half a million people were killed in the initial attack. More died from injuries, hunger, disease, riots, and a nuclear missile that was panic-launched. Some of the world's leading cities were left in ruins.

For over a decade the humans of Earth had been going to other planets using an alien device called a Stargate. Out there they had found aliens, and, surprisingly, other humans. A race of parasitic aliens known as the Goa'uld moved them around the galaxy, posing as gods and enslaving the people. One of Earth's greatest achievements was defeating the Goa'uld- first Ra, then Apophis, then Anubis and finally Ba'al. Their warriors, the Jaffa, had rebelled, influenced by the humans of Earth. Former Goa'uld worlds were liberated. The major Goa'uld System Lords were gone, their territories divided between the Free Jaffa, the Lucian Alliance, and any minor lords that were able to hang on to what they had. It had been a long war, waged in secret, but victory was finally at hand.

The Goa'uld did not build the Stargates, however. An ancient, but human-like, race known as the Ancients (which was considered by many a stupid name) had built them and laid the foundation for most of the technology used by the Goa'uld. The Ancients had come from another galaxy, leaving after a split between them and those that would become known as the Ori. They once inhabited the entire galaxy, but a plague forced them to leave on their city-ship, Atlantis. The humans of Earth had travelled to Atlantis in the Pegasus galaxy as well.

All the Ancients were gone, of course. They soon discovered why. The Wraith had defeated them. The Wraith were technologically inferior to the Ancients but much greater in numbers. They were also human-like, though not as much as the Ancients. The difference was that the Wraith had telepathic abilities and fed directly off the life force of people through a process barely understood by top scientists. The Ancients had seeded Pegasus with humans as well, who were routinely culled by the Wraith every few thousand years. Any race advanced enough to be a threat was destroyed.

The arrival of the humans from Earth had changed everything. At first they could only strike minor blows against the Wraith. They had destroyed a few of their hive-ships, won battles on the ground, and turned a machine race known as the Asurans on them. The Asurans were built by the Ancients in their own image as a weapon against the Wraith. They were programmed with an uncontrollable aggression and the Ancients, fearing the worst, attempted to destroy them. Their base code was later altered so they would not attack the Wraith, then changed back by the humans of Earth. They started destroying human worlds instead of attacking directly. The humans from Earth, Wraith, and a group of spacefaring humans known as the Travelers banded together to stop them. The Asurans were destroyed, this time for certain.

Several other plans had been tried to combat the Wraith. One of the first was to turn them into normal humans. It didn't work, instead creating the Hybrids, which were eventually defeated. Another was to give the Wraith the ability to feed off of normal food instead of feeding off of humans. The first few tries failed, but perfected by Wraith scientists, it eventually eliminated the Wraith's need for culling. By this time, the Wraith numbered far fewer than before, both from the human attacks and fighting among themselves.

There were also the Ori. They lived in another galaxy, the one the Ancients were originally from. They too had a great number of human followers. The Ori had Ascended, like most Ancients eventually did. They were to some degree immortal and had godlike powers. This fact was kept secret, for obvious reasons. They had very advanced technology, vastly superior to anything in the Milky Way. The humans of Earth had accidentally made the Ori aware of their presence, and the Ori and their followers had launched a crusade into the Milky Way. They created a plague, similar to the one that wiped out the Ancients, and cured those who bowed down the the Ori and their Priors. Their warships were immensely powerful and nothing could stand in their way.

One Ancient, Myrddin (later known as Merlin), knew of the threat the Ori posed. His weapon was found and deployed, wiping out the Ori. Another Ancient artifact, the Ark of Truth, was used against the Priors, convincing them the Ori were false gods. The galaxy had been freed of the Ori, but at a heavy cost, including the loss of Earth's first warship, the _Prometheus_.

Earth had allies, of course. The Tok'ra were biologically the same as the Goa'uld, but did not overpower their hosts, instead engaging in a unique "blending". They had fought an underground war against the System Lords for thousands of years, but only recently had engaged in major actions. There were few of them left, since they took heavy losses, were few in number to begin with, and no longer had the ability to reproduce.

The Asgard were an advanced race, in the same league as the Ancients. They possessed hyperdrives that could cross galaxies in minutes, weapons that could destroy Ori ships in a few hits, transporters, cloning technology, and a great many other achievements. They fell victim to genetic degradation caused by their cloning-based reproduction and a race of machines called the Replicators. The Replicators were defeated with the help of the humans from Earth, but the genetic degradation problem was never solved. Some of the Asgard believed the humans were the "Fifth Race", the first four being the Ancients, Asgard, Nox and Furlings. They had visited Earth often, giving rise to both Norse mythology and UFO myths. The Asgard had destroyed their homeworld and sacrificed themselves, levaing their legacy to the humans. Before they had done so, they had made it possible for Earth to survive and fight their enemies, providing advanced technology and protection. An offshoot of the Asgard race had survived in the Pegasus galaxy, but they were less advanced, few in number, and hostile.

In 2009, when the Stargate was revealed and the United Earth Space Forces formed, the humans of Earth had four ships and a few thousand personnel assigned to Stargate-related positions. By 2018, they had over two hundred starships and hundreds of thousands of people.

Technology, civilian and military, advanced in leaps and bounds overnight. Cancer, AIDS, and even the common cold had been more or less cured. The average Terran was expected to live twice as long as those who lived even ten years prior. Flying cars, matter transmutators, and holodecks were in reach of humanity. The promise of those things had helped settle the initial panic.

Earth went from a heavily polluted, overpopulated, oil-reliant planet to the most advanced human world in the galaxy in only ten years. The cities were rebuilt, taller and bigger than ever before. The illustrious exterior hid the fact that billions lived in slums, barely benefiting at all from the technological revolution, crime was rampant, and politics was as much an obstacle as ever. Though referred to as United Earth, there was no unified government. Every country had a seat on the Council, which had some power over individual governments. It was vague what they could and could not legally do, but individual nations usually cooperated.

For one reason or another, some chose to move outwards to the colonies. The first, New Horizon, was established in 2011. At first they were few, small, and had rough living conditions. More sprung up and they grew quickly. By the end of 2018, there were dozens of colonies, the largest with a population of five hundred million. Most were situated close to Earth, well-protected by the UESF fleet. A few sprung up millions of light-years away in the Pegasus galaxy. They were frontier worlds, and though the Wraith had not done anything significant for years, it was still considered dangerous. Though Earth was the biggest centre of human civilization, the colonies were important both economically and militarily. The term Tau'ri, Goa'uld for "humans of Earth", came to mean both those who lived on Earth and those who moved outwards to the colonies.

The dominating power of the UESF kept both galaxies at peace. The Lucian Alliance continued to be a thorn in their side in the Milky Way. They had neither the numbers nor the technology to face the Tau'ri head on and they knew it. They stuck to smuggling, dealing drugs, and occasional raids. The Wraith largely ignored the Tau'ri, and the Tau'ri largely ignored the Wraith. The few Goa'uld remaining generally kept to their territory, occasionally harassed by the Lucian Alliance. The galaxy was at peace, albeit an uneasy one.

They should have known it would never last.

* * *

There is a video now, at watch?v=HtsbWLH61Yw on YouTube. If you do not know how to use that, try google. You would get an intro cutscene in the game, but since this is a fanfic you have to make do with a wall of text. Next chapter we'll meet the team and make a CoD reference.


	3. Prologue 3

A bit of exposition and the obligatory training mission.

* * *

Prologue – Proving Ground

The UESF military is officialy divided into six parts, more for administrative than operational purposes. Section One is the Stellar Navy, covering most, but not all, interstellar vessels. Section Two is the Embarked Combined Forces, covering ground and fighter forces embarked on the SN vessels. Section Three is Ground Forces (F/SG), covering ground forces not attached to SN vessels. Section Four is the Air Force, an anachronistic term for the section dealing with small ground-based spacecraft and orbital defence platforms. Section Five is Exploratory and Development, an umbrella section consisting of Stargate and space exploration as well as R&D. Section Six, Supply and Logistics, backs it all, as well as concealing the crucial (and deliberately hidden) intelligence division. The messy and seemingly arbitrary organization stemmed from an attempt to combine new and old ways of thinking, and to try and keep traditional service divisions.

In practice, the divisions went largely unnoticed. The entire UESF military had the same ranks, same uniform, standardized equipment and reported to the same brass. Entire units were freely moved from section to section, and often three or four sections would participate in the same operation. Put into the words of General O'Neill, "A massive Charlie-Foxtrot that we get to ignore."

Section Seven, by many official definitions, does not exist. Usually referred to simply as "Seven", it is the special operations wing of the UESF, and also one of the largest open secrets in the galaxy. Almost everyone knew vaguely about the Seven teams, but few could prove its existence. Seven is largely composed of small teams. It incorporates elements (and personnel) of previous special operations units, including the SAS, US Navy SEALs, Sayeret Matkal, Spetznaz, and SGC. It is by far the smallest section, and arguably the deadliest.

Echo Site was one of many alphabetically-labelled offworld bases. It was in the middle in regards to age- it had been established shortly after the formation of the UESF. Officially, it was a base specializing in "deep-space radar telemetry", an institutional joke that went back for over twenty years.

The planet was a standard temperate one, with one-point-zero-five Earth gravities, almost the same atmospheric composition and pressure, and very similar flora and fauna to Earth. There were no human settlements and no signs of Goa'uld occupation. It was nothing- a backwater planet in a galaxy full of backwater planets.

It was the perfect place for Seven's headquarters. The total population was barely a few thousand, contained in the four-person teams, administrative, supply and other support personnel. A tiny portion of the Earth-sized planet was used, the rest wilderness. A lone sensor satellite hung in geostationary orbit. Ugly, square grey buildings contained the stargate, armouries, indoor training areas, and offices. Outside, there was a short airstrip, mostly disused since the advent of antigrav VTOL, a firing range, and training areas, including the infamous (but only rumoured to exist) Live-Fire Training Area.

It was, ironically, advanced technology that allowed such an archaic form of training to exist. The advanced armour worn by modern infantry prevented the exercise from being completely suicidal. Even still, hollowpoint rounds were used, as they wouldn't penetrate armour as well. Robotic turrets and androids represented the enemy. They were simple mechanical devices controlled by a separate computer with a real person sitting beside it.

Weighing several hundred pounds sans wearer, the powered Aegis VII/SO armour had been a pipe dream only a decade earlier. Now, what was predicted in science fiction was real. Nearly all infantry units were equipped with an advanced form of combat armour. Trinium plates and flexible polymer armour covered the entire body, and it was sealed against chemical, biological, and nuclear hazards, as well as water and vacuum. A complex suite of sensors, computers, and communications equipment provided unparalleled situational awareness. The armour was very difficult to penetrate and boosted strength to levels previously associated with superheroes. That alone would make the Tau'ri soldiers the deadliest infantry force in two galaxies. It didn't stop there, however. The Aegis VI/SO armour was also equipped with shields, inertial dampers, and stealth systems. Weapons, Tau'ri and alien, were quite a bit more deadly, most having been designed to be used against armoured soldiers. Other civilizations had also developed their own armour, though the UESF retained a significant lead in armour technology.

Team Six was one of several teams, made up of four members like most of the others. The leader was Captain Sarah Roberts. Under her were Lieutenant George Thompson, Specialist Mikhail Petrov, and the new member, Sergeant David Gabai.

Captain Sarah Roberts was part of the latest generation of soldiers, having joined the UESF directly. She had been trained and conditioned from the beginning to fight in the modern battlefield, using the latest technology against the newest threats. Her almost instinctual abilities in combat and excellent leadership had earned her the rank of Captain and the callsign "Viper". When the SGC had been disbanded as part of the reorganization of the UESF, she ended up in Two, and was later selected for Seven.

Lieutenant George "Teatime" Thompson was her second-in-command. He was at least ten years older than she was. He had been part of the Special Air Service before joining the UESF, being recruited straight into Seven.

Specialist Mikhail Petrov was the smallest of the three men, slightly shorter than Sarah. As a sarcastic nod to his size as well as his nationality, he had the callsign "Bear". In addition to a great degree of skill with alien and human technology, he had a calm demeanor and did not drink much, if at all.

Sergeant David Gabai was an Israeli, going by the callsign of "Mavet". It was Hebrew for "death", an apt callsign. He was an excellent shot and deadly up close as well. He had been IDF before joining the UESF, then being recruited into Seven. Mavet was new to the team, replacing a member killed in action. He knew he would never be able to take his predecessor's place completely.

* * *

_January 15, 2019  
Echo Site, Milky Way Galaxy  
Sergeant David "Mavet" Gabai_

Mavet arrived perfectly on time in the shooting range. Lieutenant "Tea" Thompson was already there, along with several technicians doing various small tasks. They were already wearing the all-black Aegis VII/SO armour.

"Glad you showed up mate. Grab a rifle from the table," he said, pointing.

Mavet took the rifle. It was a spec-ops M-55 SCAR rifle, a selective-fire weapon firing 7.62mm NATO rounds from a 30 round magazine. It was preferred by Seven because of its accuracy and power. This variant was equipped with a smart-linked sight and shorter barrel, but no grenade launcher.

_/Press F to pick up the rifle._

"Head to station three and aim your rifle downrange. You know the drill."

Mavet headed to the third station, unoccupied. Downrange were real paper and wood targets. Most of the time holographic targets were used, as they are easier to use and in some ways more realistic. However, some still preferred real, solid targets.

"Firing from the hip isn't as inaccurate as it used to be. You probably noticed the circle and dot that popped up when you wielded your weapon. The dot is where the bullets will ideally hit, they'll probably hit within the circle. Your suit and smartlinked weapon also provide an ammo and fire mode indicator.

"Alright, I'm going to pop up the targets one by one. Try firing from the hip."

Mavet disengaged the safety and fired at each target as it popped up, hitting them with reasonable accuracy. It sort of worked, but firing from the hip went against almost all of his training.

"It doesn't feel right, does it?"

"No, sir."

"It'll get easier with practice, but firing from the shoulder is still better. Try that now."

A red and white paper target popped up, and Mavet fired several three-round bursts, putting each one through the ten-ring.

"Proper good job mate. Remember, switching to your pistol is always faster than reloading. Grab a pistol and try it."

"May I ask why, sir?" Mavet asked. Shooting was fun, but grabbing a pistol just to toss it around seemed pointless. He assumed it had some sort of traditional significance in Section Seven.

"You'll need it in about five minutes-" Teatime was cut off by Captain Green's voice coming through their suit radios.

"Tea, Mavet, meet me at the cargoship. I want to see how our FNG does."

They headed out, passing several generic grey buildings and exchanging few words. The Live-Fire Training Area was on the opposite side of the base, parts of it inside other large, ugly grey buildings. The Close Quarters Combat Simulator was one of them. Colloquially known as "the cargoship", it was actually based off (and made from) part of a _Prometheus_-class frigate. The reasoning behind the name was unknown. It could be set up for hostage rescue or straight CQB practice, the idea being to incapacitate the robotic enemies. The other half of Team Six was already there.

"Huh," Viper said, eyeing Mavet and sounding unimpressed. "That's the best they could do? I asked for a replacement, not a meat shield. You ever done this before?"

"No, ma'am."

"Head over to the airlock. I'll guide you through it. Relax, Sergeant. The enemies are simulated... but the bullets are real," She smiled as she said the last part, though nobody could see it through her tinted faceplate.

Mavet headed to the airlock. It was a silvery-grey metal door on a silvery-grey metal hull. It had indeed been carved out of a _Prometheus-_class frigate. Nobody knew which one it was- salvaged from the destroyed _Phoenix_, repurposed from the decommissioned _Kiev _or pulled off the refitted _Tel Aviv_. Some even insisted that it was made from the original _Prometheus_ itself, though few believed it. In any case it had been modified beyond recognition since being salvaged.

"This one's a straight CQB run," Captain Green explained. "Once the door opens up, charge in and take down the first batch of enemies and head aft."

The Sergeant waited ten slow seconds for the door to open, quickly making sure his gun was loaded and his shields were up. He would be graded on speed, efficiency, and damage taken. Whether he would become part of Sarah's team or get booted from the prestigious Section Seven would hinge on his performance. Really, unless he totally screwed up he would pass.

"Go go go!"

Mavet went in low and fast. Three mostly humanoid robots were inside waiting for him. Each had a submachine gun. He took one down before they even started firing, putting five rounds through its metal chest. He ran aft, firing at the remaining two robots from the hip and taking them down, taking several hits in the process.

"Kick the door!"

He did so, smashing the out-of-place wooden structure to pieces with a metal boot. He hit something metal. One of the robots was placed directly on the other side of the door. Mavet did not waste any time staring at the cold metal "face", obviously designed by someone with a taste for American movies. He dived on top, bringing out his knife and driving it through the metal neck of the robots. It missed the critical wiring but tripped several sensors, rendering the robot "dead".

"Position two, move! Flashbang through the door!"

He tossed one of the cylindrical grenades through the door. There was a bright flash, blinding to anyone unprotected, and a loud bang dampened by attenuators in his helmet's audio circuits. He was in the next compartment in a split second, taking down both robots inside the small room in seconds.

"Down the ladder, move!"

Mavet jumped down the hatch, ignoring the ladder and landing with a heavy thump. Two fixed turrets stared back at him, each barely a meter away. They had only a split second to fire before he rushed forward and smashed them with the butt of his rifle. A spray of bullets bounced off his shields, causing him to wince.

"Left side, move forward and take 'em down!"

To his left was a doorway and another of the combat robots. David's M-55 was empty, so he pulled out his pistol and put three rounds through the robot's head. Two more behind the first received the same treatment.

"Position five, sprint to the finish!"

Position five was the next room. It was originally the bridge, and a large red button was mounted where the command chair had once been. Mavet dashed across the room at a speed superathletes would have trouble matching and slammed his armoured fist down on the button.

"Twenty-three seconds. You'll do, I guess," Captain Green said, coming through the now-open door. "Briefing room sixteen. Don't bother changing."

She headed for the door, and then turned back to say something. "Oh, and welcome to Seven, Mavet."

* * *

I'll probably be working on this more than SGD. I want to finish SGD, but rehashing episodes is no fun. So updates will be infrequent and sporadic. I have several other fanfics planned that may or may not come to fruitition. Also another N64 portable.


	4. Act One 1

Act One - Takedown

Music suggestions? Call of Duty 4 Cargoship Approach would be perfect for the beginning. After that, no ideas, sorry. See how many references you can spot.

For the purposes of this story, Lima is local and Echo Zulu is Earth GMT.

* * *

"John Douglas Anderson," Captain Green began. "Wealthy son of a bitch. Industrialist, philanthropist, anti-war activist. A pretty good cover story for a criminal.

"He's been a thorn in our side for a while now. Anderson's been working with the Lucian Alliance, several small criminal and terrorist networks, probably even the System Lords and the Wraith. Of course, he's in it for himself. Mostly arms dealing and finance, but he has a hand in pretty much everything.

"Picked a nice spot to hide. Lantea, the joint colony with the Travelers. Once a haven from the Wraith, now it's a melting pot of politics, culture, and economics. Not that I'm complaining, of course. Place is bigger than New Horizon- but the Tau'ri population is smaller. Make no mistake, this op is illegal as hell. Six'll make it look like it was tied to criminal activities, which should be a good enough cover."

"What are we up against?" Teatime asked simply.

"Anderson's mansion is big and decently secure, but no match for us. Most of his security's provided by Blackwater Intergalactic. Trigger-happy and numerous, but not very good and poorly equipped. He has his private guard, which we don't know much about, but it's probably small and tough.

"We come in on a cloaked jumper, and enter via the roof. If we do it right, they'll have no idea we're there until it's too late. We go in fast and stealthy, take down Anderson, and get out."

"Are we going to pump him for information?"

"We probably won't have time, but Bear can hack his computer and download the contents. We'll just have to settle for that. Any more questions? Good. We move out at 1600."

_January 16, 2019, 2450 Lima (Day One)_

_Sanctuary, Lantea, Pegasus Galaxy_

_Sgt. David "Mavet" Gabai, Section Seven, Team Six_

"ETA 60 seconds!" the pilot announced. It was pouring rain outside, and the craft was buffeting all over the place. They could barely feel it, but they could see the world moving through the window. It wasn't disconcerting anymore.

"Final check!" Viper said, snapping her helmet over her head. "Lock and load!"

Mavet picked up his M-91S silenced submachine gun and slung it around his neck. He slammed a 50-round magazine in the top and cocked the weapon.

"Thirty seconds," the pilot announced. They were over Sanctuary and the craft was beginning to decelerate.

They gathered by the rear door of the jumper and waited the last twenty or so seconds in silent tension. Team Six held on to whatever was handy as the rear door opened, threatening to suck them out.

"Go, go, go!" Two by two, they jumped out. The ship was right above the roof and going less than a hundred kilometers an hour. Even still, the forces were incredible, the manoeuvre made possible by the inertial dampers in their suits. Mavet hit the roof and dug his feet in, tearing the real slate roofing off. He had hit at the wrong angle and was running out of roof, sliding across it. Falling off wouldn't kill him, but it would compromise the mission and probably get him kicked off the team.

A slender hand grabbed his arm just in time, abruptly stopping his decent. Viper was lying on the roof above him. Her opaque faceplate gave no emotion away.

"You're heavier than I thought," she said, pulling him up. Then she turned serious: "Don't let it happen again."

A few metres away on their right, Bear was already hacking into the lock on the roof access. "Almost there... done!" The hatch slid smoothly open, and they jumped down, not bothering with the ladder.

Mavet and the rest of the team followed Viper, who in turn was guided by a map displayed on her HUD. "Top floor. He'll be in his bedroom or office, and both are below us... Hold on. Contact, around the corner. I got him."

He watched as Green snuck around the corner, moving with surprising agility despite the heavy armour. The guard was one of the Blackwater people. Sarah clamped one gloved hand over his mouth and slit his throat with her knife. He gurgled, gushing blood, and she lowered him to the ground. Moments later, an alarm began to sound and two other guards appeared at the end of the large hallway.

"Damn it! Must be wired with a vital signs sensor! Go loud!" She dropped to one knee beside Mavet and unleashed a burst of 5.7mm bullets into one of the guards. Mavet dropped the other with a similar burst.

"They're going to move Anderson to the saferoom. Down two levels. It'll be safer if we go through side rooms," Viper said, leading her team down the stairs.

Mavet followed her to the right, into what looked like some kind of office. There was a guard inside, who in a feat of bravery bashed Mavet in the head with his rifle. It had the opposite effect of what he was hoping for, shattering the stock and rendering the gun incapable of firing. Mavet put two rounds through his head at point blank, spraying blood and brain matter all over both of them.

He ducked instinctually as the guards poured gunfire into the room. The walls were thin wood and drywall and the bullets punched through easily. Several impacted his shields, but he kept moving, following Captain Green through another room, some sort of office. The guards outside continued to pepper the side rooms with wild gunfire. They had to cross the main hallway, which had a dozen guards in it.

They burst out with guns blazing. Four of the guards fell immediately to the barrage of gunfire, their archaic Kevlar vests useless against the armour-piercing SS199 bullets. Mavet quickly switched targets, dropping two more with accurate bursts of fire. In seconds it was over, the royal blue carpeting stained a crimson red.

"Bloody hell, looks like there's more on the next floor. Makes sense, I guess," Teatime remarked, glancing at his tactical display.

"Move up," their leader ordered, and they followed her down the stairs. It was fairly simple, but far from easy. They would shoot every armed guard they saw. That was easy. The bad guys would be firing back at them, and they were at least two dozen of them. That was hard.

The stairs led to a wide-open hall, with the opposition taking cover behind makeshift barricades. The safe room was on the other side, of course, past all the enemies. Viper peeked around the corner, and a hail of gunfire peppered the wall behind her. One round struck her helmet.

"Flashbangs out," she said, tossing two of the cylindrical grenades around the corner. "Move in!"

They stormed the room just as the flashbangs went off. They were effective at stunning the unprotected mercenaries, but Team Six didn't feel the effects at all. Three of the guards stumbled out of cover, and were instantly moved down.

Mavet moved quickly, keeping pace with the others. He jumped over a knocked-down table, twisting midair and ripping the two people behind it to shreds with a hail of bullets. He reloaded and leaped over a bookcase. There was one woman behind it, who had recovered somewhat more. She raised her gun, but not fast enough. Mavet bashed her over the head with his gun. It smashed her skull in, her head being protected by little than a bandanna. Just to make sure, Mavet drove his knife through her neck.

Several gunshots hit him in the side. One of the guards was lying against the wall, bleeding from his left leg and valiantly firing his pistol. Mavet brought his machine gun around and fired in one smooth, quick motion. Three bullet holes appeared in the man's chest and he slumped to the ground, dropping the pistol.

The room was littered with dead bodies, bleeding out from various gunshot wounds. The gunfire ceased, leaving an eerie silence in its wake. Captain Green yelled over the intercom,"Room clear. Second door on the left, prepare to-"

The distinctive chatter of a Kalishnikov rifle sent them all running for cover. Three people, two men and a woman, burst into the room. It was hard to tell their gender, because they were clad in black armour. Even in 2019, decent armour was expensive and hard to get. Each carried an AK-203 assault rifle and was firing from the hip.

Mavet leaned out from behind the (rapidly disintegrating) couch, squeezing the trigger on his SMG. He emptied the entire magazine into the armoured men, and managed to drop his shields. He slammed another magazine in and leaned out to fire again. His shields were draining, too, but Team Six had the advantage of better armour, better training, and bigger numbers. The sergeant watched with grim satisfaction as his gunfire penetrated the man's armour. He stumbled and collapsed, blood spilling from several bullet holes in his armour.

"That the best you can do?" Mavet said quietly. Maybe women really were smarter, because she had taken cover and was still alive. Or maybe she just got lucky. She leaned out from behind the doorframe and fired at Mavet. An angry beeping announced that his shields were down. He grimaced as a few bullets slammed into his armour, stopped by the trinium alloy. There was something that sounded like a small explosion, and the woman fell over, dead.

It wasn't an explosion, just a very powerful gun. "Reform on me," Viper said, holstering her M-6 heavy pistol. It was an enormous automatic handgun, firing .50 SRP rounds from a magazine forward of the grip.

They moved quickly through the now-open doorway. "Hmm, now we know why she took cover," Tea remarked. In addition to the massive puncture caused by the M-6 heavy pistol, there were two smaller holes in the woman's armour. She had been injured in the first moments of the firefight.

It was a short corridor, with a heavy metal door on the other end. There was an eerie silence in the air. They had probably gone all out defending the safe room, and there was nobody left. Or they were massing for a counterattack. Or it was a trap. Mavet pushed the thoughts out of his head and focused on the mission.

"Bear, unlock that door," Green ordered. The Russian immediately pulled out a PDA-like device and connected it to the lock interface beside the door. He tapped on the touchscreen, hacking into the poorly encrypted lock.

"Done," he said about ten seconds later, putting his equipment away. Tea threw the heavy door open effortlessly, and they stormed in.

The room was small, with a low ceiling. Wood panelling covered the steel of the walls. On one end sat a heavy desk with a computer terminal on it, and there were several storage cabinets throughout the room. There were two more armoured guards, one male and one female. Before they had a chance to react, Viper put a bullet through each of their heads with her heavy pistol. It was fairly gruesome. The bullet smashed through their shields and the clear faceplates of their helmets, impacting their head and splattering it inside the helmet.

John Douglas Anderson sat in a leather chair behind the desk. He was wearing an expensive suit and tie. And he was smiling. Something didn't feel quite right, and they all felt it, but couldn't place it.

"Well, it's about time," he said, startling them all with his gloating. "I guess I've done a pretty good job. Pissing off the government enough to warrant a visit from Seven. Don't act so surprised..."

"Bear, start the download," Captain Green said over their tactical net, pointing her gun straight at Anderson. Turning back on her internal speakers, she addressed Anderson. "So, you'll admit to arms dealing, financing and working with known illegal elements?"

"...of course. Anyone who's anyone does it. Now what I did wasn't _technically_ illegal. Under the local laws..."

"I think he's trying to buy time," Teatime said. "Maybe he has some sort of backup plan."

"...out of your jurisdiction. This isn't technically a Tau'ri world. And money doesn't just talk on Lantea, it sings like..."

"I'm not waiting to find out," she replied, disengaging the safety on her pistol.

"...will soon all be destroyed anyway. I am but a small player in a large game. You cannot stop the oncoming storm-" Anderson's speech was ended by a bullet to the chest. The wood panelling behind him was splattered with blood, flesh and bone fragments. Most of his chest was gone, ripped to pieces by the powerful fragmenting ammo. His eyes flashed for a moment as he slumped to the floor.

"Fuck," Captain Green breathed, "Move out. We're done here."

* * *

Unlike most of my stories, this one actually has a plot mostly planned out.


	5. Act One 2

I've been busy with other things, so it took a while.

* * *

Act One – Uprising

"Unconfirmed reports are coming in suggesting dissent in the outer colonies, calling for separation from Earth. It is unknown at this time how popular the movement will become..."

"Separatist movements are gaining ground on many Tau'ri colonies. On the colony of New Horizon, riots have broken out in the street. Separatist leaders are demanding that the colonies split from Earth. There is opposition from both colonial and Earth parties... "

"The World Nationalist party has seized power in the nation of Russia on Earth by force. Peacekeeping forces are unwilling to move in under the threat of nuclear weapons. The World Nationalists are believed to be connected to the Separatists..."

"Breaking news- New Horizon's popular government has fallen to Separatist rebels. Film at eleven..."

"Sergeant, turn that off," Lieutenant Williams ordered. His 2IC, Gunnery Sergeant Jessica Walker, flicked the power switch on the display, cutting off the recording. Steven Williams cleared his throat and addressed his men (and women, though he still thought "men").

"All right, here's the mission. The Separatists were nothing but a terrorist group before. Now they've rallied support and taken control of half of our colonies. We don't know how or why, and it isn't our business. We're not going to let those colonies go. Not without a fight.

"We're deploying to New Horizon to stabilize the situation. The remaining forces on the ground can drop the beaming inhibitors, but the stargate is firmly under the control of the opposing force. We go in, force the gate open, and let the reinforcements pile in.

"Go in fast, go in hard. We do this right and nobody goes home in a box. No fuckups on this deployment- if everything goes according to plan it'll be in and out, quick and clean. We move out at 0800. Dismissed."

* * *

_January 20, 2019, 0600 Lima  
New Horizon, New Horizon, Milky Way Galaxy  
Sgt. Jessica Walker, Section Two, 23rd Light Infanty_

They felt the _Valkyrie_ shudder as the assault ship dropped out of hyperspace. Three others bore down on New Horizon alongside her.

"Check your gear!" Gunny Walker yelled, snapping her own helmet own and slamming a magazine into her rifle. "Beamdown in sixty seconds!"

There was tension in the air as the nervous marines fiddled with their weapons and armour. The Mk. V/EFCOM armour was of a similar design to the suits issued to Seven special forces, but had inferior shields and lacked most of the stealth features. They were issued with HK417/M-15 rifles as their primary weapons. The HK417 was a gas-operated, select-fire 7.62 NATO battle rifle. Those used by the UESF were equipped with "smart-linked" optics, providing variable zoom, night vision and ammo status information interlinked with the soldiers' suits.

GSgt. Walker's rifle was the shorter "assaulter" model, with a twelve inch rather than a sixteen inch barrel. It was equipped with a grenade launcher, as well. The standard sidearm was the M-22 Five-Seven pistol, which fired the small but powerful 5.7mm round. She carried two of them, which led to several unprofessional and nonsensical comments (something about a tomb raider) from her CO. She thought Williams was a sexist and borderline incompetent prick. He thought Walker was completely useless.

Williams was a former US Marine, and still a Lieutenant after several years in the UESF. Walker was fresh to the UESF and had moved from Private to Gunnery Sergeant in four years.

"Beamdown in five," a voice announced over the intercom. Williams's platoon visibly tensed in the back. They were among the best, well trained and equipped. A single platoon of about thirty people packed a ton of firepower, including sniper weapons, machine guns, anti-tank and anti-air missiles, and man-portable light artillery. Some of them were veterans, some had never seen combat before. You could tell who was what just by looking. "... two ...one."

Jessica recovered from her disorientation quickly, suppressing the slight nauseous feeling one gets from matter transportation. One moment they were on the assault ship, the next they were on the ground about a kilometre from the gateport and under fire.

She scrambled behind a wrecked car, pulling one of the new privates down with her. Around them, the once-beautiful city of New Horizon burned. Firefights broke out, the Separatists gunning down anyone who refused to cooperate. Armoured vehicles belonging to both sides rolled through the streets. An F-6 fighter craft roared above them with a pair of missiles streaking after it. It was worse than anyone had imagined. The city was in chaos.

None of them had any time to think about it, of course. "Suppressing fire!" Lieutenant Williams ordered. "Go, go, we have to move forward!"

Gunnery Sergeant Walker found herself fighting beside the lieutenant. They half-crouched to minimize their profiles and inched forward. Rebel gunfire peppered their shields, and they fired back, tearing through the minimally armoured infantry with ease.

"Sir, if we take that alley we'll have more cover!" she said, ducking behind what was once a garbage can. The Separatist forces were holed up in buildings, and they couldn't flush them all out. Someone didn't have the same idea, and Walker watched a 76mm HIWS shell slam wastefully into an apartment building, blowing a huge hole in it.

"I'm in command!" Williams snapped at her, firing his own rifle from behind a streetlight. "That's a choke point, we'll get killed even faster in there."

"Yes sir," she muttered in reply. They pushed through the street, sprinting from cover to cover and taking fire from all sides. It seemed an eternity until they made it to the next cross street. They slogged through a field of continuous fire, suppressing the enemy and trying not to get hit. Amazingly, nobody was hurt, a testament to armour technology. They were strained and had expended a significant portion of their ammo, however.

"Shit," Williams muttered. Between them and the gateport was a hastily erected but well fortified position. Sandbags with machine guns on them were arrayed across the street. The building itself was already fortified and the rebels added additional machine gun nests. A group of snipers congregated on the roof. "How do we do this?"

"Around the back, sir," Walker suggested. "There's no way we can punch through this."

"Rhetorical question, Sergeant." Williams paused to address his men. "We push through. Snipers, take out the guys on the roof. I want the heavy weapons to take out as much of their defenses as we can. Then we rush them and wipe out any remaining resistance."

"Get in position," he ordered. Again, Sergeant Walker ended up beside the lieutenant. They crounched behind a semi-intact semi trailer and waited for the snipers to line up their targets and the mortars to be set up.

"All units, execute!" Lieutenant Williams ordered. There were a few sharp cracks from their M-107 .50 BMG sniper rifles, then they were drowned out by the hammering of M-18 machine guns. The rebel defenders fired back, suppressing them with a torrent of machine gun fire.

"No fucking way, sir!" Walker yelled, emptying her magazine into the defenders and dropping back down. The enemy fire beat down on them relentlessly. The snipers could only manage an occasional shot, and the machine gunners simply sprayed every muzzle flash in sight.

"Command, this is three-one actual. Uh, you think we could get any air support here?" Williams asked over the radio. There was no need to describe the situation. More data than could be fit into a reasonably terse conversation was already uploaded over the battle network.

"Roger that, air support is on the way but may take some time."

To Williams's left, Corporal Jenkins grabbed the red hot barrel of her machine gun and pulled it off, setting it down and replacing it with a cool one. "Are you trying to burn your fucking hand off?" Williams yelled. "It's got a handle, use the fucking thing!"

"Sorry, sir," she said, and resumed firing. Though against standard procedures, it was mostly safe to grab the barrel and some said that it even saved a few seconds, especially since the handle on the M-18 was prone to breakage. Indeed, Jenkins hadn't felt anything more than a slight warmth through her thin gloves.

Sergeant Walker didn't give it much thought. Around her, bullets flew in both directions and peppered the area. She saw a bright muzzle flash from a dark window. _Sniper_. In the space of a second, she aimed through the window and put three rounds into it. All three were hits. Immediately she switched targets and fired off another burst. They were the ones getting overwhelmed, despite their superior weapons. It was an age-old story. Technology versus numbers. Numbers usually won.

Suddenly, a stream of cannon fire raked across the enemy positions and rockets slammed into the grey building. The smoke from the blasts obscured the rubble that was once smooth concrete. An A-4 gunship slid into view.

"Three-one actual, this is Intruder. All tangoes down," the pilot announced.

"Thanks for the assist, Intruder," The pilot rocked the almost wingless craft from side to side and it soon disappeared from sight.

"Don't get comfortable," Williams warned. "This building is crawling with hostiles. Our priority is to push through to the control room, pop open the iris, and let the reinforcements flood in."

"We split into three teams," he ordered, sorting his people on a wrist-mounted interface and transmitting the lists to each person. Out of habit: "Johnson, right entrance, team two. Malkovich, on the left, team three. I'll take team one down the middle."

Gunnery Sergeant Walker found herself on team three, under the supposed command of _Corporal_ Malkovich. She didn't know if Williams was sexist or just didn't like her, but he was willing to breach protocol just to keep her out of the loop. It was amazing he was in a Tier Three unit. Walker suspected that it was more about knowing people than knowing what he was doing.

"Prepare to breach," Williams ordered when he saw that they were all in position. Team three was around the corner, in front of a steel blast door.

"Uhh, shouldn't you be in command, ma'am?" Malkovich asked, shifting nervously. It felt wrong, it was intimidating, and it was against the rules.

"Yes," she replied. "Malkovich, breaching charge on that door."

"Yes ma'am," he responded, smiling as he attached the flat charge to the door.

"Breach... now!" Williams ordered, and Corporal Malkovich detonated the explosive.

A hole appeared in the thick steel door, a ragged circle blown out by the powerful explosive. The team of ten piled quickly into the narrow hallway. It was smoky but empty. They moved slowly forward, Wallker in the lead.

One lone rebel suddenly jumped in front of them. He managed to get two shots off before Jessica smashed the butt of her rifle into his unprotected skull. The impact fractured his skull, crushed his brain, and sprayed the gunnery sergeant with blood. He dropped, dead before he hit the ground.

The hallway ended in a moderately sized room that had once been some kind of central hub. Several hallways connected to it, the blast doors jammed open. There had been quite a fight here. The walls were dented, scratched and covered in dried blood. Most of the corpses were gone, but a few remained. One was a UESF officer, wearing nothing but a jumpsuit. It was obvious that the base was on backup power and most of the systems were knocked out. The alarms were disabled but a red light flashed in the distance.

"Move up. Gateroom's this way," she ordered, motioning with her hand.

They headed to the left. The hallway was a bit wider, but still utilitarian grey with exposed pipes and wiring. They had moved into it about twenty meters before Walker suddenly stopped them. The corridor was blocked by debris, and they would have to go through the side rooms. She peered around the corner into the room, and a barrage of gunfire peppered the walls, floor, and her shields.

Sergeant Walker tossed two grenades into the room. "Move in!" she ordered as they went off.

The shrapnel peppered the defenders, in one case tearing an entire limb off. It was a bunkroom, and the rebels desperately tried to take cover behind beds, tables, and lockers. With lethal and methodical efficiency, Walker's squad took them down in a matter of seconds.

"Damn, it's locked," she said, trying the door. "Mess hall on the other side. Probably full of tangoes. I'm going to knock down the door. We go in fast, all at once."

Walker slammed her full weight- several hundred pounds including armour, weapons and equipment- into the door. The hinges tore in half, and she barreled through right into a man with a gun, knocking them both to the floor. Above them, the rest of the team rushed in, laying down a deadly barrage of fire.

Though he was a strong man, the rebel did not have the advantage of powered armour. Or a convenient and extremely sharp knife. Jessica wasted no time driving her knife straight through the man's chest and tearing it out. A steady stream of blood followed, spraying her in the chest and face. The rebel grabbed at his chest, already in shock.

Sergeant Walker pushed him off. Still on the ground, she fired off a burst at a Separatist who had misjudged the height of the table with one hand. With the other she wiped blood of of her clear faceplate. The rest of her group was almost finished clearing the room.

"Good shot," Malkovich remarked, dropping one man with a single shot to the head.

There were only two Separatists left, huddled behind tables on the other side of the room.

"Cover me," Walker ordered. She hopped onto one of the tables and dashed across it. Halfway across, she realized that she misjudged it. The table fell over in the direction of the hostiles, destabilized by the additional weight. She fell heavily to the ground, rifle being ripped away by the neck strap.

The two insurgents seized the opportunity, bringing their Kalashnikov rifles around. Jessica drew both her pistols, one in each hand, and flicked off the safeties. She was in a vulnerable position, and several bullets ripped through her weakened shields and slammed into her armour before her rapid shots found their mark.

"Damn," the gunnery sergeant muttered, getting up. She was filthy, covered in blood, and various dents and scratches decorated her armour plating. The room was smoky, and blood and gore splattered the walls and floor. It had once been a nice mess hall. Now it was a slaughterhouse. In addition to the terrible sights, battlefields also had a terrible smell of blood, urine, feces and sweat. None of them could smell it.

The mess hall was being used as a weapons cache. Crates of weapons and ammunition lined the room, and the tables were covered in various rifles, pistols and shotguns. She was almost out of ammo for her SCAR anyway, so she grabbed a pump action shotgun and several handfuls of shells. She was briefly surrounded by a brief aura as her shields flashed back into existence.

"Well, that probably wasn't such a good idea," Walker muttered. "Stack up."

"Ma'am, Private Roycewitz is injured," Malkovich reported.

Roycewitz was lying against the wall, holding his leg. Blood dripped from between his gloved fingers. "Got me in the leg, ma'am. I was careless, didn't take cover, didn't let my shields recharge."

"You'll be fine," Walker assured him, eyeing the medical scan on her HUD. Two bullets in the leg. They didn't hit anything important, but they could still be deadly. "Do we have a medic?"

"No, both of them are with the other teams," Malkovich replied.

"Damn it," Walker said. She grabbed a small cylindrical object from Roycewitz's vest.

"This is a biogel injector," she explained. "It will save your life, but only if you use it!"

Walker pushed Roycewitz's bloody hands out of the way, positioned the injector over the wound and pressed the button on the end. A small quantity of biogel squirted through the hole in his armour, cleaning and sealing the wound in one step. He felt a momentary flash of pain, then a gentle numbness.

"Thank you, ma'am," Roycewitz gulped, stumbling to his feet.

"Careful. It's only a temporary fix. You need to see a medic ASAP."

"Yes ma'am," he answered, limping after them.

They moved quickly into another narrow corridor. This one was damaged, with smashed walls and rubble strewn all over the floor.

"We're getting close," GSgt Walker said. A small cylindrical object landed in front of them. "Grenade!"

She dived for the floor as the grenade went off. Shrapnel peppered her legs, the explosion ripping through her shields and some of the metal becoming embedded in her armour. Armed insurgents stormed out of side rooms.

"Damn it! Return fire," Walker ordered, blasting a rebel with her shotgun at point blank. A steady stream of fire poured onto the rebels, and they pushed through. As they fell, more took their place.

"Where the hell are they coming from?" Malkovich remarked.

Walker forced more shells into her shotgun. "Hell if I know!" she said, dropping another man with a short burst. "Keep moving, the control room isn't far from here!"

The rebel forces were now both behind and in front of them. As Malkovich and Jenkins suppressed the control room, she blasted at the Separatist mass with her shotgun, moving backwards as she did so. Ten metres to the control room, and her shields had dropped. Some of her squad had already taken hits directly to their armour.

"Rush the control room, move!" Sergeant Walker ordered. She was at the front of the squad, and the first through the door. She bowled over a rebel with unnatural speed, crushing his ribs as she fell heavily on top of him. The other insurgents surrounded them in the small, high-tech room.

They wasted no time clearing the room. The insurgents fired wildly with their Kalashnikov rifles, but they were cut down before they could do any significant damage.

"Get that blast door closed!" Walker yelled. The insurgents could get in through the open doorway, and she cut one down in his tracks as the door slammed shut.

"It's not going to hold, open the iris and send the signal."

Two of her soldiers were working on the equipment, typing frantically and flipping switches. Most of the control interfaces were old-fashioned tactile, which was generally preferred in the UESF. "It's going to take a while, ma'am," Roycewitz reported as he hammered on a keyboard.

"Where are the other two teams?" she muttered. "They should be here by now."

"...under heavy fire!" Williams yelled over the radio. "Repeat, teams one and two are pinned down and under heavy fire!"

"Damn it!" Walker swore. Williams had almost zero leadership ability and very little idea of strategy. He would get everyone killed. "Malkovich, you're in charge. Hold the fort and _get that iris open._ Jenkins, Ivanov, Peretz, with me."

They exited the control room through a similar blast door on the other side. They were barely out the door when five insurgents popped up seemingly from nowhere. The four of them opened fire, cutting them down in seconds.

It wasn't far to the other teams' position. Walker led her team carefully down the corridor, then turned right and went down another. The corridors were drab and grey, but had helpful signs posted on them. New Horizon Gateport was originally a military installation, and still retained most of the utilitarian atmosphere.

A few dozen Separatist rebels crowded the other end of the corridor, but failed to notice them. They were shooting over what was once a wall.

"Hold fire. Peretz, rifle grenade," Sergeant Walker ordered. "Go, go, go!"

Peretz fired a grenade from an underbarrel launcher. It sailed through the air and landed smack in the middle of the group. The fragments ripped through the rebels, and they were divided between fighting two threats.

Sgt. Walker's group dashed along the corridor, firing as they rushed. Before they could even fire back, half of the insurgents were dead. Walker was able to fire her shotgun twice before reaching the other end of the corridor. There were six rebels left, and they were at point-blank range.

One grabbed her shotgun, desperately trying to pull it away. Jessica held onto it with one hand and grabbed her knife. She slashed at his throat as another rebel tackled her. Caught off-balance, they all tumbled through the ground. She landed heavily, and one of the rebels landed on top of her.

And on top of her knife. It went through the man's chest but missed his heart. He grasped it ineffectually in the last moments of his life. Walker pushed the two rebels off and jumped to her feet. She gently placed her boot on top of his chest.

"Oh, no. We're taking you alive. Ivanov, tie him up."

The other two teams climbed over the damaged wall. Williams immediately berated her.

"Damn it, Walker! We had it handled. You could have lost the control room!"

Gunnery Sergeant Walker wanted to shout at him, but bit her lip. "Yes, sir."

"Don't expect to get away with this, Walker. I don't tolerate insubordination."

They headed back to the control room quickly, dragging their tied-up prisoner. Not a one of them had undamaged armour, and they were all filthy. The place reeked of blood, sweat and munitions, but none of them could appreciate the smell through their breathing filters.

"They stopped trying to come in just after you left," Malkovich reported. "Don't know why. Still working on the iris. They did something fucked up to it."

"Good work, Corporal. I'll-"

"Self-destruct activated," a synthetic voice announced. "Evacuation procedures are in effect. If you require assistance, all military and civilian staff are trained for emergency procedures. Please leave in an orderly and efficient manner."

"What the fuck?" someone exclaimed. "It didn't even tell us how much time we have!"

"That's what happens when you turn a military base into a civilian spaceport," Williams remarked. "Sergeant, take your team and defuse that device. And do it fucking quickly!"

"Yes, sir," Walker said. "The device is only about fifty meters away, but two levels down. Follow me."

They took the same door out of the room, but turned right immediately. They proceeded quietly through a door labeled "Authorized Personnel Only" and down a flight of rusty stairs. The next flight was completely blocked by rubble, as was the closest passage. They would have to take a detour.

They headed to the right, through another of the doors and down a curved corridor. A group of Separatist insurgents awaited them at the end. One tossed a grenade at the rapidly closing soldiers.

"Grenade!" Malkovich yelled, and kicked the small cylinder back at the enemy. It exploded halfway between the two parties. The rebels did not have the advantage of armour. Two fell from the shrapnel, and the others opened fire.

"Return fire!" Walker ordered. She pumped her shotgun and fired a shell into the nearest rebel. His chest exploded in a cloud of blood, guts and bone fragments. He collapsed instantly, and she wasted no time dropping another.

"Well, these guys sure are tough," Malkovich remarked sarcastically.

"Don't let your guard down," Sergeant Walker cautioned, leading them down another flight of stairs. Only a standard steel door stood between them and the self-destruct device.

"Breaching!" Walker yelled, then slammed her entire body weight into the door. The heavy steel door tore off its hinges and crashed to the ground.

The room was small, but packed with insurgents. One was in front of the door. He blasted Walker with a shotgun, the pellets impacting harmlessly against her shields. She fired her last shotgun shell into his face at point blank, turning his head into an amorphous red blob in an instant.

Around Walker, her team was filing into the room. Out of ammo, she tossed the shotgun aside and drew a pistol. She fired a three round burst into one rebel's chest, dropping her instantly with the accurate burst. Her team cut down the defenders with incredible efficiency.

"Room clear," Walker said, holstering her pistol. She took a look at the self-destruct device. It was a nuclear warhead about the size and shape of a washing machine. Two minutes left on the timer.

"Anyone here disarmed a nuke before?" she asked.

With a few taps on her wrist-mounted control interface, Walker brought up a diagram of the Mk 21 nuclear device. No booby-traps, but very difficult to disarm the timer. And the rebels had destroyed most of the control interface.

"Two minutes and no way to disarm it electronically," she muttered. "Any suggestions?"

"Blow it to pieces," Jenkins suggested.

"Preferably something that doesn't involve contaminating a major spaceport."

"Pull out the pit," Malkovich said. "The Mk 21 is a simple straight nuclear device. One of the reasons they phased it out was the easily accessible nuclear core."

"How do you know that?" Walker asked. "Nevermind that."

Walker flipped open her multi-tool. She unscrewed an access panel on the side of the device and popped it off. Inside was a hollow tube, with a spherical object in the center. "Who the hell uses straight nuclear devices anymore anyway?"

"One minute," Malkovich reminded her.

"Here goes nothing," Jessica said. She grimaced and reached into the device. "It's warm!" she remarked, grabbing the plutonium ball and pulling it straight out of the bomb. Warm and radioactive. Not hugely radioactive, thankfully, and they were all protected from the radiation.

"We should probably get out of here, ma'am," Malkovich said. "The containment explosives still make a decent boom."

"Go. I'll be right behind you," Walker said. The others left quickly, and she paused to secure the radioactive ball in a storage cupboard. It wasn't particularly secure, but there was no way she was going to carry that thing around.

Walker was about five seconds out the door when the remains of the bomb exploded. The shockwave slammed into her and knocked her face-first into the floor. Even through layers of inertial dampers and padding, it hurt.

Sergeant Walker slowly got up. Nothing broken. Good. She ran a quick diagnostic on her suit, which registered no major damage. "Fuck," she breathed. _Well, that was pointless._

"We've got the iris open, reinforcements will be here in a few," Williams's voice announced as she trotted towards Malkovich's position. "Rendevous in the control room. We've got orders to move out as soon as they arrive."

* * *

I'm actually starting to wonder if this story was a good idea or not. It's all action, no character development, and very little plot development. I'll try to focus more on those things in later chapters.


	6. Act One 3

The small UESF fleet sat lazily in orbit over New Horizon, ready to support the troops below. Among the various troop transports and escorts was the UES Normandy, a five-year-old assault carrier. She was twice the length of a Daedalus class vessel at just over 900 metres long. The Normandy was designed primarily for fighter combat, and had only light armament and shielding.

A blue-green hyperspace window opened up a moderate distance away from the Tau'ri fleet. One after another, the seventeen Ha'tak poured through, accompanied by a contingent of Al'kesh. Behind the rest came a flat, broad round ship about the size of three Ha'tak, with a similar pyramid structure in the centre. Death gliders immediately began pouring out of the Ha'tak vessels. With only one assault carrier, around sixty-four fighters, and three Berlin-class frigates, the UESF fleet would be brutally outgunned. The opposing fleet began rapidly closing the distance, holding their fire for the moment.

"Captain, picking up several vessels, closing fast," the tactical officer reported. Although the commander's proper rank was Colonel, the title of Captain was often used due to 'wet navy' influence.

"Bring the fleet to general quarters," the Captain ordered. The lights in the CIC went red and the traditional deep alarm began to sound. Crew rushed to their combat stations aboard the Normandy and other ships. "Can you identify?"

"Seventeen Ha'taks and several smaller vessels," the officer reported after a moment's hesitation. "And something mothership-sized. No IFF, sir."

"Launch fighters and signal Command," the Captain ordered. "Hold your fire for the moment."

He keyed the communications system. "Unidentified vessels, you are in United Earth territory. State your intentions or we will be forced to take hostile action."

"No response, sir," the communications officer reported. "Sir, do you think the Goa'uld are invading?"

"Who knows?" the Captain replied. "It could just be the Lucian Alliance flexing their muscle, or maybe the FJN couldn't figure out how to work the transponder."

* * *

_January 20 2019, 0712 Lima  
USS Normandy, Orbiting New Horizon, Milky Way Galaxy  
First Lieutenant Martin "Candle" Rosenberg_

The main flight deck of a _Normandy_ class assault carrier was massive, spanning the best part of the hull forward of the bridge. The centre area was reserved for launch and recovery operations, with a long row of sleek fighters arranged along each side.

Rosenberg dashed down the length of the compartment toward his waiting 'bird'. The F-7 was a fat but streamlined craft, with stubby folding wings and the ability to fly through a stargate. It was propelled by two powerful Asgard-pattern thrusters. For armament it carried a rapid-fire railgun and internal packs of SFM-12 "Streaker" fighter-to-fighter missiles. The two SCM-9 "Breaker" nuclear anti-capital-ship missiles mounted on the stub wings did not escape the Lieutenant's notice.

"All ready for you, sir," a female tech with the rank of Corporal informed him as he entered the ultramodern, all-glass cockpit. A holographic display was mounted in the centre of the cockpit, and a sidestick was located on the right side. As Rosenberg strapped in, the cockpit snapped shut. He snapped on his helmet, sealing his vacuum-rated combat flight suit. He went through a quick pre-flight check, a manual one just in case. Getting the all-clear from control, he taxied the craft into position and slammed the throttles to the stops.

At the same moment, gravity was reversed and turned ninety degrees within a localized field. Even through the inertial dampers Rosenberg could feel the incredible acceleration, the F-7 going from a standstill to hypersonic speeds in seconds. In an instant it cleared the atmosphere-containing shield and was in the cold vacuum of space.

Rosenberg eased the fighter into a gentle right turn, forming up behind the rest of his flight. "Gold flight, check in," Major Mercier ordered with a slight French accent. It was more of a traditional formality than anything.

"Gold two, ready to rock."

"Gold three, all dressed up. We got somewhere to go?" Ramrod always did have a sense of humour.

"Gold four, in position," Rosenberg replied.

"Form up, arrowhead formation," Mercier ordered. Rosenberg eased his fighter into position behind Mercier's.

"Weapons free, weapons free!" the CAG ordered, breaking the serenity of spaceflight. "Contacts are powering weapons!"

A torrent of missiles streaked from the USEF forces, anti-ship missiles large and small. "Fire Breakers now, now, now!" Mercier ordered. Rosenberg wasted no time selecting the missiles on his HOTAS control and mashing the "pickle", or firing button. The two bulbous missiles streaked from his fighter and joined the three hundred already streaking toward the enemy fleet.

The ordinance would have been enough to decimate a small planet. The opposing force, however, had brought a secret weapon to the table. Missiles exploded from the death gliders, slamming into the UESF missiles and destroying half of them well outside of effective range. Fast-firing energy bolts streaked from the capital ships, illuminating the airless battlefield. Only a handful of missiles ever reached their targets. One Ha'tak lost its shields, another was ripped to pieces by two lucky shots. Most of the fleet had sustained some damage, but they kept moving.

Realizing their mistake, the Tau'ri fleet unleashed a second volley of missiles, this time anti-fighter ones. Rosenberg was able to fling off two before the two fleets clashed. Railgun fire spewed from the UESF ships, energy bolts flew from the enemy vessels. One of the frigates tore a Ha'tak in half with a dose of Asgard beam weapons. The angry fire of ten others ripped through her shields and perforated her armour in response. Succumbing to damage, the starship exploded, killing all unfortunate enough to be on board, which was most of the crew.

Lieutenant Rosenberg had no time to witness the spectacle. Two alien missiles were closing on his fighter, and he pulled it into a hard right turn to avoid them, punching out a decoy package as he did so. One missile went for the decoy, the other exploded against the shields of his fighter. The craft shook, and the shield indicator instantly dropped by twenty-one percent. All around him, fighters engaged fighters, capital ships engaged capital ships, and the Al'kesh engaged both.

Angry that his missile didn't destroy the fighter, the death glider pilot engaged Rosenberg's F-7 with his energy cannons. Martin pulled the craft around in a half-circle, dropping safely below the shots as he did so. He aimed in the direction of the engaging fighter and squeezed the trigger. Automatic aiming systems adjusted the railgun and the lightning-fast rounds tore into the death glider. It exploded in a spectacular ball of flame.

Two more death gliders came up to replace it. This time the energy bolts did not miss. As they slammed into his fighter's shields, Candle fired off two Streaker missiles. Each missile went for a separate death glider, blowing it to pieces.

Seemingly as soon as it had begun, the battle ended. The death gliders pulled back, many falling to Tau'ri weapons. The Ha'tak, being symmetrical, simply reversed course, still facing the same direction. The transports had been decimated, with only a few still in any condition resembling intact. Two frigates were nothing but wreckage, the third venting plasma and atmosphere. The _Normandy_ was also in bad shape, covered in burn marks and missing pieces of hull.

As Rosenberg watched, a bright yellow beam streaked out from the bottom of the mothership. Seemingly in slow motion, it ripped through the _Normandy_, tearing her completely in half. He watched helplessly as the two halves tore themselves to pieces and exploded. The best part of her 600-strong crew died instantly in the blast.

The opposing fleet was not leaving, however. The fighters and Al'kesh made a sharp ninety-degree turn for the planet. Tel'tak transports flew out of hangars and joined them. A solid cloud of enemy forces was about to rain down on the planet.

"They're heading for New Horizon!" someone yelled. The forty-five remaining fighters turned to intercept the enemy forces.

Candle jinked his fighter back and forth, side to side trying to avoid the yellow energy bolts flooding the battlefield. The Ha'tak vessels had opened fire on the Tau'ri fighters, since they were far enough away from their own to avoid friendly fire incidents. The Al'kesh had turned their cannons aft and were firing away. He winced as his fighter was hit, rocking it but thankfully not doing any major damage. His wingman was not so lucky. Three of the enemy shots lanced through Ramrod's fighter, disintegrating it mid-flight.

Martin's emotions were a mix of rage at losing his friend and relief that the shooting had, for the most part, stopped. They were too close for the Ha'tak to fire now, and only the rearguard Al'kesh were still trying to hit the fighters. He selected one and fired off a missile, watching with satisfaction as it hit. The Al'kesh didn't disintegrate, but its engines flickered and died. He fired another missile, this one hitting a death glider, which did explode spectacularly.

"Hit them with everything we've got!" Mercier ordered, firing off several of his own missiles. Rosenberg needed no further encouragement. In the space of five seconds, he fired off the rest of his Streakers, eight in total. Seven found their marks, the last suffering a software glitch and flying straight forward before finally smashing into an Al'kesh but not detonating, still taking the craft down by kinetic force alone.

The F-7 began to shake as it entered the atmosphere. The enemy forces were spreading out, but stayed mostly concentrated over major cities. The friction of atmospheric reentry strained the fighter's shields, but it was over quickly.

Now it was an atmospheric furball. Out of missiles, Candle switched to his railgun. A death glider streaked in front of him, and he turned hard to the left to give chase. He pulled the trigger, watching with satisfaction as the tiny, super-fast projectiles shredded the enemy fighter.

Rosenberg's fighter rocked twice and warning lights began to flash. There was another death glider right behind him, and the enemy fire had gotten through the shields on his F-7. He tried to bring the fighter around, but it was sluggish. What should have been a killing blow became a line of glancing hits. The death glider broke off, limping away. What he did not see was his companion.

A missile streaked from the death glider, detonating right on Rosenberg's F-7 and tearing the starboard engine to pieces. Red warning lights began to flash and an alarm went off inside the cockpit. Aerodynamically unstable and incapable of flight using normal lift alone, the fighter began literally falling out of the sky. Martin wrestled with the stick, trying to bring the stricken craft back under control. The fighter was in a steep dive and rocking violently from side to side. He could feel it, which meant the inertial dampers were damaged as well.

There was no use fighting it. The pilot took a deep breath, braced himself, and pulled on the ejection handle. First the canopy blew off, propelled by explosive force. A split second later, the seat was forced upward by rocket boosters. The incredible g-forces seemed to crush his body. Soon after, a drogue chute deployed automatically and the seat fell away. It was a terrifying experience, being nearly crushed then falling towards the ground in near-freefall from several thousand feet.

Rosenberg forced himself to wait, lest he deploy his parachute too soon. Deploying early would increase the chances of being shot at or hit in midair. It was designed to deploy automatically, but a manual release dangled tantalizing at his waist. There was another sharp jerk as the main chute deployed. He floated toward the burning city below, trying to steer the parachute toward an open area.

It didn't work. Lieutenant Rosenberg ended up crashing into the side of a building. He flared before hitting the ground, but the forward momentum carried him not-so gently into a brick wall. It hurt quite a bit. He released the clips holding his parachute in place and unclipped his survival bag. Out of it he retrieved a Kel-Tec SU-16CA rifle. He clipped the bag back on, unfolded and loaded the gun and made sure his emergency transponder was working. It was going to be a long day.

* * *

A bit short, but I fully proofread this one so it should be more polished. I've modified the GateWar plan several times, and I find myself closer to the original with only a bit of content cut. Still need a spiffy logo, though.

That took a while, I know. As usual, I've got too many projects going at once. As of the time of writing, another chapter of SGD is halfway done, The Daedalus Effect is on the backburner and needs a trailer, I'm throwing around ideas for Halogate Redux and have a super-secret project on its way. Not to mention some IRL and other online stuff, and of course plain old laziness.


	7. Act One 4

It's been a while, but it's finally here. I suggest Coup De Grace from the Modern Warfare 2 soundtrack and Jeepride Chase from CoD4 for this chapter.

Act One - Informant

* * *

"Alright, here's the deal," Captain Green explained. An image of what looked like a burning city appeared on the holo-screen. "New Horizon. First it was the rebels, and now it's someone else."

A person dressed in silver plate armor with a snakelike helmet appeared. "Intelligence thinks it's the Goa'uld. It goes without saying that the return of the Goa'uld is not a good thing. They're stronger than before. The warriors are tougher and they have much better weapons. We have reason to believe they have ground vehicles as well."

"They're no slouches in the starship department, either." The large Goa'uld mothership appeared. It was a noisy picture. A yellow-white beam lanced from the vessel straight toward the camera and the video ended. "That was their mothership destroying the _Normandy._ Even the Ha'taks are faster, better armed, and tougher than before. Their fighters are equipped with missiles. Make no mistake, these are bigger, badder Goa'uld."

"So, what are we going to do about it?" Teatime asked.

"Reinforcements are being diverted where possible, but the brass are worrying about other attacks," their leader replied. "And it's happened. Three other planets have been hit. Over in Pegasus, the Wraith are acting aggressive, which ties up our forces there."

"Could the Goa'uld be working with the Wraith?" the Brit asked.

"It's a definite possibility. If they are, it's our worst nightmare."

"Right. I take it we're not going to New Horizon to hold the line?"

"We're going to New Horizon, but not to hold the line." The ship disappeared and was replaced by a picture of a man. His name, birthdate, and other information were supposed to be displayed, but only blanks appeared.

"He goes by the codename Joe. One of our informants inside the Lucian Alliance. Right now he's holed up on New Horizon. We get him out and he spills his guts. Or so he claims."

"So, are we going to do this legitimately or like our last informant?"

"Same way as last time," Captain Green said with a mischievous grin.

* * *

_January 20 2019, 1735 Lima  
New Horizon, New Horizon, Milky Way Galaxy  
Sergeant David "Mavet" Gabai_

Travelling through the Stargate did not amaze him like it once did. Still, there was something to be said for going to other planets in the blink of an eye. The four of them emerged from the stargate into a messy, battle-damaged gateroom. The walls were scratched and dirty and the floor was covered in layers of dirt, debris, and blood.

A man in dirty armor and carrying a rifle came into the room to greet them. "Welcome to New Horizon, Captain," Corporal Adamos Papadoupolis said. "Wish it could be under better circumstances. Colonel Teldy sends her regards."

"Still only a Colonel, eh?" Teatime mused. "So, which way to the exit?"

"Down the hall and to the right. Who are you guys, anyway?" he asked.

"Nobody," Captain Green replied, and disappeared. The rest of her team followed suit, leaving the Corporal shocked and confused.

"You just had to do that, didn't you?" the British lieutenant asked.

"Of course. Gotta keep Seven's near-mythical status going."

The Corporal's instructions were reasonably accurate, if incredibly simplified. Mavet simply followed Captain Green, who seemed to know where she was going. They all had maps on their HUDs, which were dubiously accurate due to the severe damage to the base. Several walls were completely gone and rooms caved in. Rubble, bodies and dirt lined the floors. Power fluctuated throughout the base, sometimes working, sometimes not.

"Switch to IR, it's dark outside," Green ordered as they stepped outside. The glow of fires and the few functioning streetlights lit the city. A missile arced across the sky, lighting it up with its powerful detonation.

"Bloody hell," Lieutenant Thompson spat as the world turned bright but grey. What had once been the ultramodern city of New Horizon, with tall, sleek towers and impeccable road and railways was now at the level of the worst slums on Earth. Many of the towers had partially or completely collapsed. Huge swaths of the city were on fire. Bridges, monorail lines and overhead walkways had come crashing down. The roads were littered with debris, wrecked vehicles, and bodies. The very air was contaminated by the dust of destruction and the stench of decomposition.

"No time to play tourist," Captain Green snapped. "We have a mission to accomplish. Form up on me."

They moved silently through the streets, turned to mere spectres by their cloaking devices. David saw houses missing walls, people dead or left for dead in the street, and crashed cars still on fire. They walked right past one delirious man who rambled on and on. He was dressed in rags and looked like he hadn't slept in days. There was nothing they could do for him.

"Hold up," their commander called. "Alley. Now."

They quickly ducked into the alley. A veritable convoy of tanks, soldiers and trucks sped by. The general crudeness of their equipment marked them as Separatists even more than the insignia did. "Damn," Petrov muttered. "Where are they getting that equipment?"

"I don't know, but I think we're going to find out pretty damn soon," Captain Green replied. Suddenly, she whirled around, raising her SCAR-H. They had run straight into a man trying to scavenge from garbage cans in the alley.

"What the fu-" He didn't have a chance to say any more. With ruthless efficiency, Viper clamped her hand over the man's mouth and broke his neck, lowering him gently to the ground.

They waited anxiously as the vehicles rumbled by. Captain Green peered down the street. The Separatists weren't headed for their positions. Two blocks down, they were engaging in intense combat with Goa'uld forces. The Jaffa were obscured by helmets, but she could make out their basic shapes. They were accompanied by a slug-like vehicle. She watched as plasma bolts streaked from the vehicle and tore through one of the rebel tanks.

Another of the tanks fired at it in response, hitting an energy shield protecting the vehicle. It was not invincible, however. The sheer power of a dozen antitank missiles and APFDS rounds eventually penetrated the shield, detonating directly on the vehicle and causing catastrophic damage. It stopped firing and caught fire.

Captain Green ducked back into the alley as the crew scrambled out of the vehicle. "We're taking a detour. Through the alley, move."

They resumed their quick pace through the dark, dreary streets, coming to what was once a highway. Abandoned cars, wrecked cars and all sorts of debris littered the asphalt path. "Bear, see if you can find a car that still runs," Green ordered. "Our friend is on the other side of town, and I don't feel like walking that far."

"Couldn't we have arranged transport?" Mavet asked.

"Look around, Sergeant," Teatime answered, motioning with his rifle. "The Space Forces have got their hands full dealing with the rebels and the Goa'uld. No way they're going to give us a ride."

"Yeah well, it's quiet," Viper muttered. "Too quiet."

They stood beside each other, taking a moment to look around. This section of highway was raised, and they had a decent view of the surrounding city. Whole buildings burned, others were collapsed upon themselves. The slowly rising sun bathed the city in a deep orange cast. In the sky, all kinds of unidentifiable craft engaged each other and occasionally made bombing runs. Tiny tanks and soldiers were visible on the streets. Panicked civilians were mostly trying to hide, with some lucky ones being evacuated and some unlucky ones being executed by the invaders.

There was a loud rumble of a large gasoline engine and a mid-size pickup rolled up beside them. "Hop in," Bear said from inside. "Is not military, but better than car at least."

"Hell fucking yeah!" Sarah exclaimed, hopping into the passenger seat. Tea and Mavet went in the back. "This is a classic. Eight cylinders of hemispherical American muscle, not a puny little motor on three wheels."

"What is she talking about?" the Israeli Sergeant asked.

"Americans love their cars, especially old rubbish," Tea whispered. "Never found anything wrong with puny little motors on three wheels myself."

The vehicle bumped down the damaged highway, passing other abandoned and ruined vehicles. Suddenly they swerved to the right, and an explosion lit up the ground around them.

"Death glider!" Gabai called. The craft was right behind them, and fired another yellow energy bolt. He opened fire as the Russian jerked the wheel, the truck swaying violently.

"Get us off this highway!" Captain Green ordered, firing out the window. The Russian driver obliged, sending them down a mostly intact offramp. The offending craft followed, spewing out bright yellow bolts that narrowly avoided their vehicle. Petrov floored the accelerator, buying them a little bit of time.

"Which way do I go?" he asked. There were several side streets that could be just as dangerous.

"Turn right, now!" their commander ordered. The death glider overshot and went past as they sped into a two-lane gap between partially intact skyscrapers.

"Are we safe?" the driver asked.

"No," Tea said as the glider came back into view, firing at them again. Bear slammed on the brakes, the energy bolts hitting mere centimetres in front of the vehicle. He slammed the accelerator next and sped down an alleyway.

"Watch out!" Green cried shortly before the truck ploughed through a fence. The windshield, made of traditional autoglass rather than newer polymers, shattered, blasting them with razor-sharp shards.

They sped out of the alley onto a badly cratered street, littered with debris and destroyed vehicles. There was a sickening thump as they ran down a man, then cracks of gunfire. They had ran right into a Separatist patrol. In addition to a dozen or so infantry, they had an armoured vehicle with them.

"This is going to get fun!" Captain Green shouted, cocking her grenade launcher and taking aim. She ignored the bullets ripping through the doors of the vehicle and slamming into her armour. The rebels' attention was divided between the truck rapidly speeding past them and the death glider rapidly approaching them. Unfortunately, the crew of the APC seemed to hate them more. Sarah winced as a heavy .50 BMG round slammed into her armour. Those ones were nasty, and had a habit of collapsing shields and penetrating armour. She took careful aim at the vehicle and fired.

The vehicle exploded, raining debris on them. The insurgents were now totally concentrated on destroying the truck, pouring automatic weapons fire onto it. The team fired back at them, but hitting anything from the back of a truck was incredibly difficult. Meanwhile, the death glider continued to give chase, occasionally firing at them.

"To the left!" Viper shouted. Mikhail needed no encouragement. He jerked the wheel left, bringing the damaged truck onto the cross street. Their foe followed effortlessly down the gently curving road.

"Damn it to hell!" Sarah shouted as one of the yellow energy bolts finally found its mark. It slammed into the hood of the vehicle. The engine coughed and kept grinding along, flames erupting from the hood and licking into the cabin. Smoke poured from the vehicle.

"Almost there, keep going," she said. Ahead of them was a suspension bridge, partially collapsed from bombing. Two roads split off from the one they were on. The engine was now totally on fire, and the floormats and some upholstery was burning. It was charring the paint on her armour, and the temperature regulation systems in her suit were straining to keep her feet from frying.

"Which way?" Bear asked. The death glider was still behind them, but had ceased firing for the moment.

"Straight ahead!" Captain Green ordered, trying to ignore the fact that the vehicle was basically on fire. It was actually a bit odd, since her feet were not burning and didn't even feel particularly warm.

"Are you daft?" Tea shouted from the back.

Captain Green ignored him. "Get ready to bail on my signal," she ordered. They had passed the point of no return and were now on the bridge, heading toward a giant hole in the pavement that split the bridge in half. Some wires still ran between them. She swung her door open.

"Now!" she yelled when they were right over the hole. As she jumped out towards the dark water below, the truck exploded in an impressive fireball, the fire finally reaching the fuel tank. The death glider, which had been chasing them closely, slammed into the wires holding the bridge up, breaking several before finally being torn apart and crashing into the ground below.

There were four distinct splashes as they hit the water. "Everyone okay?" Captain Green asked as she swam towards the opposite shore. It was somewhat awkward, since her armour was not exactly hydrodynamic and added quite a bit of weight.

"Bear here, I am okay."

"Tea, that was one bloody insane thing you did!"

"Mavet, already on shore."

Viper dragged herself out of the water. The Israeli, true to his word, was already there. "Check your gear," she ordered. Her load bearing vest was soaked, of course. The main worry was their weapons. She cleared her SCAR-H and let the water dump out, then did the same with her pistol.

"Move out," the Captain ordered, leading them toward a stone retaining wall. "Up and over, boys." She stepped back, then took a running jump at the wall, grabbing onto the metal guardrail several feet above. She clambered over the edge and leaned down.

"Mavet, you first," she ordered, holding out her arm. The Sergeant briefly worried that he would break her arm, but quickly pushed away the thought. Captain Green knew what she was doing, and was a lot stronger than she looked. He took a deep breath and jumped up, grabbing onto the woman's arm.

Gabai need not have worried. Her strength boosted by her armour, Sarah easily lifted the man up onto the ledge. "Alright, you take Bear, I've got Teatime." The next two men were pulled up easily. They were now on the side of a road, this one also littered with debris and junked cars. It wasn't as bad, however, and the buildings looked less smashed too. It seemed to be a residential area, with various types of houses lining the streets.

"If you don't mind me asking, ma'am, where the hell are we?" the British Lieutenant asked.

"Really damn close," Green replied. She watched with interest as one man poked his head out a window, the shut it. "This is the street, our guy is about five buildings that way." She pointed.

"We're that close?" Gabai asked.

"Uh-huh. Guy lives right by the bridge, in the only apartment building within five blocks of it." Sure enough, there was one apartment building, a small one. It was damaged, but still standing. "That is if this guy followed our instructions and didn't decide to bugger off."

The entrance door was locked. It was no obstacle. Sergeant Gabai watched as his commanding officer kicked the door down and entered with her weapon shouldered. "Third floor, number 304," she said, climbing up the stairs. Mavet and the rest followed, alert and ready for trouble. The trip to the room went without incident, however.

Captain Green tapped on the door three times. "Who is it?" a Chinese-sounding voice asked. "What is the code?"

"We're coming in whether you like it or not, so you better damn well open up," Green replied nonchalantly.

There was a click as the door unlocked. It opened, revealing a short, balding ethnically Chinese man dressed in a t-shirt and cargo pants. "Why they have to pick such a stupid code," he muttered to himself. "Come inside, please."

"Are you sure this is the guy?" Mavet asked, making sure his external speakers were off.

"I'm sure,"

"So, what have you got for us, Joe," the Captain asked, sitting down on an overstuffed sofa.

"You will get me out?" he asked. "You get me out, then I'll talk."

"I have a better idea," Captain Green suggested, drawing her Desert Eagle and toying with it. "How about you talk now, and I won't start blowing bits off." He gestured at the man's groin.

"You won't do that! You are military, you are not allowed to do that."

"Oh, really?" Green put down the gun, then in one quick motion drew her knife and slashed it across Joe's right arm.

The informant screamed in pain, clutching his bleeding arm. "You bitch!"

"Start talking, or I'll start taking off more important parts."

"The Lucian Alliance is working with other criminal and extremist groups, including World Nationalists," the man began. "Can I have bandage or something?"

"Keep talking, and maybe I'll cut off my sleeve and let you use it." Sarah liked to use that one. It was basically impossible to cut off the hard armoured 'sleeve' of her suit, and she would never do it anyway.

"All right, but I get rescued, yes? Okay, these groups are paid off to stir up trouble, blow things up, fight against government. And some media manipulation, extranet advertising, a bit of subliminal messaging, we incite panic and spirit of rebellion in colonies. People are incredibly stupid, we give them guns and let them cause panic. Controlled, of course."

Captain Green tore a strip of fabric from Joe's sofa and tossed it to him. "Keep going."

"But here is the thing. Money did not come from us. The funding came from someone by the name of Ivan. He is the head of everything."

"Ivan?" Sarah asked, looking at Specialist Petrov.

"Is most common name in Russia," he said, shrugging.

"Any other names?" Green asked.

"I never met any of them, but I heard two other names. Todd and Cliff. They are not human, I know that much."

"Is that it?" the Captain tossed him another sofa strip.

"That is all I know," Joe concluded. "Now, you get me out of here?"

"Why should we?" Sarah asked. "You've told us all you know. You're scum, Joe, whatever your real name is. You know that? By civilized standards, you're a criminal. By criminal standards, you're a rat."

"But not- I helped you!"

"Sorry, pal, but crime doesn't pay." Captain Green picked up her pistol and shot the man in the head at close range. Blood, bits of bone and brain matter splattered all over the opposite wall, her gun and her arm.

"Dead men tell no tales," she muttered softly, getting to her knees and searching the body. She found a pocket knife, mobile phone, wallet in his pants. Continuing her search, she found a USB memory drive in a less pleasant place. Like most dead men, he had defecated, so she wiped the drive on his shirt before pocketing it all.

"We're done here," Green said, standing up and wiping her gloved hands on Joe's clothing. "Command, this is Starhawk One Actual, requesting pickup."

"Standby, Starhawk, we have enemy forces moving in on your position and airlift is unavailable. Reinforcements are en route."

"Oh well that's just great. What do we do now?" Tea asked.

"We hold this position and wait."

* * *

Please leave some feedback. Also, stay tuned for the continuation of Reboot ME.


	8. Act One 5

This is the end of the line for GateWar. It was put on hold way back in April due to lack of inspiration and the fact that I was busy with other projects. I was going to post the half-finished chapter I had, but I decided to finish it (poorly). I may bring back the premise and some elements of this story into a tentatively titled "GateWar V2" as a sequel to SGD. I liked the concept of GateWar, but I did not like the way it turned out.

Enjoy the last chapter. It's not really an ending- this would have been the end of Act One.

* * *

Act One - Flashpoint

"Okay, it goes basically like this," Lieutenant Williams explained. "One of our spec ops teams is stuck halfway across the city under heavy enemy fire."

"And we have to get them out?" Walker asked.

"Exactly. There's a lot between us and them. The Separatists can't decide who they're fighting. Good news is that they're falling apart under the strain. Bad news is that Goa'uld pressure is going to get a lot stronger when they're gone. And we have to fight through them, too."

"Plan, sir?"

"We're taking an AV-106 assault craft as far as we can go. They intel guys still don't know how much AA is around, but they're thinking there isn't much. We may have to settle for an LZ several klicks away from the spec ops team."

"What kind of spec ops team are we talking about, sir?" the Gunnery Sergeant asked.

"A small team, but command refused to tell me who they are."

"We all know what that means."

* * *

_January 20a 2019, 0735 Lima  
New Horizon, New Horizon, Milky Way Galaxy  
Gunnery Sergeant Jessica Walker_

Like most UESF air/space craft, the AV-106 was short and fat, with stubby wings intended more for supporting ordinance than providing lift. Two small thrusters mounted in the wingroots propelled the craft, and antigrav units in the floor kept it in the air. The windows were small and angular, deemed to be weaknesses in the fairly strong hull. The current -G variant of the AV-106 was equipped with electronic countermeasures as well as energy shielding.

The AV-106, filled with soldiers, flew swiftly over the heart of the city. Above them, fighters still duelled. Below, the city was in ruins, though most of the fires had gone out. Visible from the sky were flashes and explosions of battle and various military forces moving through the streets, bright against the stormy night. They were right over the heart of the city, where many skyscrapers had once stood tall. Few of them remained.

"Damn it, we're being lit up!" the copilot suddenly exclaimed as various RADAR and other sensor platforms began powering up. "Missiles inbound!" he shouted as the alarm went off.

"Hold on, this is going to get rough," the pilot said, her voice cool as ice. The craft lurched violently to one side, the movement not quite compensated by the inertial dampeners. Two S-75 Dvina missiles, dinosaurs from the Soviet age, streaked by the craft, one exploding in a cloud of chaff. Flak shells began exploding near the craft. One detonated directly in front. The explosion rocked the AV-106, sending one of the soldiers in the back sprawling. A blaring alarm signified that the shields were down. The pilot pushed the throttles to the stop, bringing them out of the clouds of flak and faster than the maximum speed of the antiquated S-75.

The intercept receiver had not been programmed for the new Goa'uld weapons systems, and the stylized but still effective missiles had no fire or smoke trail. Without warning, one slammed into the starboard wing near the root and exploded. The wing was completely torn off and the engine shredded. Fragments peppered the cabin, pinging off the armored occupants.

Sergeant Walker felt her ears pop as her suit switched to its internal air supply, the compartment rapidly depressurizing. The craft descended in an uncontrollable spiral, with half its antigrav units offline and missing an engine. "Mayday, mayday, this is Vulture One-Five, we are going down, repeat going-" The transmission was cut off when the damaged AV-106 smashed into an office building, ripping half the fuselage away. Jessica was thrown out of her seat and out of the craft. She slid along the floor, crashing through desks and walls.

The AV-106 plummeted into the street below. Sergeant Walker scrambled for something to grab on to as the windows rapidly came up to meet her. As her feet crashed through the window, her left hand grabbed onto a steel drain pipe sticking out of the floor. She strained to hang on, her augmented strength holding up several hundred pounds of human, armor and equipment. Below, the AV-106 had skidded to a halt. Gunfire spewed from buildings and the wreckage of their transport. Figures rushed from the buildings. One of them spotted the soldier hanging from the side of the building. He pointed, and soon a group of insurgents had opened fire on Walker.

"Fuck," the Gunnery Sergeant breathed as bullets peppered the building, smashing out a few of the remaining intact windows. She wouldn't be able to hold on much longer, the pipe was bending and bullets were peppering her shields. With all the strength she had left, Jessica twisted and brought up her right arm, grabbing on to the bent metal edge of the window. Slowly, she pulled herself up and over the edge of the building.

The place was a mess. It looked like it had once contained offices, but she couldn't be sure. Most of the walls were smashed out, giving the place an open look. Strong steel beams and concrete pillars showed through the broken panelling. Water pipes and electrical wiring were exposed, though there was nothing flowing through them anymore. Broken electronics, furniture, and glass lined the floor.

"This is Snake One-Actual, under heavy fire," Lieutenant Williams' voice blared over the radio. "Request immediate reinforcement! We are on the ground and surrounded. Repeat request immediate reinforcement!"

Sergeant Walker knew she had to get down there. She took a moment to check her equipment. Backpack- left in the transport. She could do without that. Her load bearing vest was ripped in places but still mostly intact. The armor that had saved her life was scratched and filthy, but everything still worked. Her rifle was long gone. Walker drew her pistol and headed for the stairs.

One man stood between her and freedom, and two bullets ended that. She moved quickly down the stairs to the ground floor. The sounds of fighting intensified, and she could see gunfire raking the vicinity of the crashed spacecraft through the smashed-out windows of the building. One man kneeled next to one of them, aiming a massive sniper rifle through it. One bullet through his brain prevented him from ever firing it.

The Sergeant quickly took the man's weapon and ammunition, and positioned herself right beside the corpse. Muzzle flashes were visible coming from the crashed helicopter. More were visible in buildings nearby and on the street. Switching to IR, Walker peered through the scope, nudging the M82 rifle to the left and lining it up with two rebels firing Kalashnikovs. With a tremendous roar and massive muzzle flash, a .50 caliber round exploded from the barrel, passing through both men and lodging itself in a building behind them.

Quickly switching targets, she lined the rifle up with another man, this one quite clearly wearing some kind of armour. She gently depressed the trigger, and cursed when it clicked back. While reloading, she got a closer look at the armoured man. Thick and bulky, and his movements showed it. But he was taking several rounds and not falling, so it was tough, too. Would it hold up against an armour-piercing .50 round?

Another squeeze answered that question. The man dropped, but two more suddenly appeared to take his place. The rebels were regrouping and rushing the crashed AV-106. She heard another voice on the radio, this one of Corporal Malkovich. "This is Snake-One, we are being overrun, repeat being overrun! Where are you?"

"Corporal, what's your status?" Sergeant Walker snapped. She pulled the trigger again, feeling it kick hard against her armoured shoulder.

"Ma'am? We thought you were- shit! Lieutenant Williams is dead, so are Chen, Watkins and Weber. We're running short of ammo and they're still coming."

"Standby, I'm en route to your position," Walker slung the rifle across her back, the barrel extending several inches above her head. The downed craft was at her 2 o'clock. The rebels were almost directly to her left. It was a good sprint of a few hundred metres. "Can you give me some covering fire?"

"We can try, ma'am." The fire from the wreckage intensified, and the Sergeant began her mad dash across the street. Legs pumping, servos at full power, her metal boots pounded against the muddy street. The insurgents noticed, and shifted their fire towards her. Gunfire quickly ripped away her shields, and she could feel several bullets slam into her armour before diving into the mud and sliding behind what was once a wing.

With a gloved hand, Walker wiped some of the mud off her faceplate. She addressed the remainder of the squad. "There's no way we can hold this position. We're going to have to make a run for it."

"The Lieutenant would have-" someone objected.

"Lieutenant's dead," she snapped. Above them, a large shape loomed into view, blotting out the limited light. "What the hell?"

The shape was massive, covering several blocks of the city. It seemed to have come out of nowhere, but actually dropped down through the atmosphere. Several sets of rings dropped down and knots of Jaffa appeared. "Looks like they've landed," Malkovich commented.

"It'll give us a distraction, at least," Walker replied. "On my signal, move out. Stay tight and hold your fire unless fired upon. Clear?"

"Yes, ma'am!" the squad chorused.

Walker crouched behind the wing, then sprung up and dashed for a nearby low-rise apartment. "Go, go, go!"

The rest of her squad followed quickly and ducked inside a trashed lobby. Outside, the insurgents were busy with the Jaffa that had been dropped, and failed to notice them leave. The building was dirty, wrecked, and empty. They moved quietly through the back door into an alley.

"How far is it, ma'am?" one of the soldiers quietly asked.

"About a click that way." Walker gestured with her arm. Although the others couldn't see it, she brought up a map on her HUD and was examining it. Inexplicably, she walked toward a manhole cover and opened it. "We can take the sewers. I don't think they'll look in there."

Sergeant Walker landed in the large steel pipe with a splash. As he followed her down, Malkovich muttered, "I'm glad we have full-body armour."

The brown sludgy water came up to their knees. It flowed rapidly in the opposite direction toward a sewage treatment plant that had been long since destroyed. The walls were cold, dirty steel, and once the cover had been replaced, there was no light inside the sewer.

About halfway through, they noticed a decomposing body against the side of the sewer. Retching, one of the women in the squad sputtered. "Fuck, how did she end up down here?"

"Suicide, escape, dumping- nothing we can do for her now. Keep moving."

They continued until Walker suddenly gave the order to stop. She flicked her flashlight on and waved it around the sewer, casting eerie shadows on the side walls. The flashlight beam fell on a manhole shaft, and she smiled triumphantly. "There it is."

There was no ladder, so she selected the largest and smallest members of the team. "Jenkins, you still have your paracord on you?"

"Yes, ma'am," she replied.

"Good. Letlev, get under the hole. Jenkins, climb up on his shoulders. Once you're on top, you're going to have to pull us all up."

It was an awkward procedure, as the heavily armoured Jenkins was actually quite heavy. She stood shakily on the large Russian's shoulders and pushed the cover aside. Grabbing the edges, she hoisted herself above the edge of the hole.

Outside, it was chaos. The manhole was just inside an alley, situated beside a smashed apartment building. There was a three way firefight. Gunfire poured from inside the building toward two distinct groups, both of which were trying to fight each other. Jenkins quickly lowered the rope, tying it around a lamppost as well.

"Well, we know we got the right place," Sergeant Walker commented. "Starhawk One-One, this is Snake One-Actual, do you read?"

"Affirmative," a cool female voice replied. "You were the ones sent to pick us up?"

"Something like that," Walker replied. "Alright, Jenkins, pull me up."

Jenkins wasn't the strongest soldier in the world, but she found herself able to easily pull her superior up thanks to her boosted armour. Sergeant Walker stood guard while she pulled the rest up.

The same woman came on the comm again. "What the hell are you waiting for, Christmas?"

"We're on our way," Walker replied as the last man was dragged up. There was a door facing the alley, which was made of steel and locked tight.

"Do what you want with it, we're on the third floor." Shrugging, she kicked the heavy door open and they filed through. The lobby was burnt and blackened by an explosion, and several corpses dotted it. The squad ignored all that and went up the stairs. The last flight, however, had been destroyed.

A man in dirty, bloody armour appeared. He had a bullpup rifle in one hand, which he set on the floor before dropping a piece of wood where the stairs used to be. Identified only as 'Bear', he said in a Russian accent, "The Captain would like to see you."

As soon as they had made it upstairs, the man pulled the plank up and retrieved his rifle. Sergeant Walker headed down the hall and into the third room where her HUD said 'Tea', 'Mavet' and 'Viper' would be.

"So you're our ticket out of here?" 'Viper' asked. She was behind an MG3 machine gun, and did not pause firing to talk.

"We were supposed to be, but our bird was shot down."

"Guess we're going to have to wait, then," the woman replied darkly. "Again."

She looked up. "Defensive positions. So far they've only tried coming in the front, but that's probably going to change. Put one of your people on the far room and one in three-oh-five. The rest of you, spread out along the front."

"Yes, ma'am," Walker acknowledged, then relayed the necessary orders. She braced her own heavy rifle against the window frame. Across the street, the insurgent forces were entrenching themselves in a convenience store. Or trying to- the Jaffa were hammering them with staff blasts. The Ha'tak still loomed ominously in the sky.

"What the hell?" Trails of fire arced upwards from the city, one not more than a few blocks away. Each one had a missile riding atop it, and was headed straight for a Ha'tak.

Before anyone could react, the missiles impacted and the world was enveloped in a blinding white light.


End file.
